


Tea Party for Two

by scarletstring



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, F/F, Fluffy, with a sprinkle of feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 106,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletstring/pseuds/scarletstring
Summary: As a veteran female escort, Wendy expects to be between the sheets, receive her pay, and then leave -- all within the hour. But Wendy can't tell if this particular client knew that when she was spending her time preparing her tea instead of telling her to take her clothes off.





	1. Buttons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy leaves the bed with bite marks for kisses.

Wendy leaves the bed with bite marks for kisses.

 

They've stuck to her skin like summer rain, sticky and persistent, her hands attempting to wipe them off – or at least to soothe the pain.

 

She doesn't bother wasting time lingering to listen to him snore any longer, plucking the thick envelope off the desk before clicking the door shut.

 

Wendy takes this time to slip on her black heels, readjust the fur coat over her shoulders and flicking her hair through her fingers to remove any evidence that she had just had sex several minutes ago.

 

It was a relatively good round. He lasted longer than usual (Wendy assumes he's been practicing though – he _did_ mention how he met a girl he likes), and Wendy can always appreciate exercising her own stamina.

 

But he was a biter and had always preferred going rougher; heavy hands, sharper fingers – it was nothing she couldn't handle, of course. He was a regular after all; with a lot of money.

 

Now for her next client.

 

Room 277.

 

Wendy's glad she's spaced out her schedule for one hour between clients. It gives her enough time to freshen up, relax, and enjoy the crisp feel of cash in her hands. Besides, the clients tended to appreciate her energy in bed, though Wendy wishes she could say the same in return.

 

The longest one lasted fifteen minutes (the remaining forty-five of her paid time was spent staring at her phone playing games; though if they weren't paying her, she'd have scribbled all over their faces) and it was a shame really; he was handsome and she had expectations.

 

But at least he was better than the champion with the shortest time in all of her sexcapades; the poor client even paid double just to have her promise to keep her mouth shut and never mention it again.

 

Wendy almost snickers at the memory as she sits by the window of a small lounge area on the second floor.

 

She's already screened the next client in case they were a serial killer or a cop.

 

Bae Joohyun, 26.

Aries and a working college student.

 

Wendy's more surprised that a woman as pretty as her (it wasn't hard to find her profile online) would request for services like her own.

 

Probably someone questioning their sexuality. Not the first time she's had a female client, anyway.

 

Glancing at the clock on the top right of her phone screen, Wendy scrolls through the client's profile page once more. She'll need to have a grasp of her character if she's going to make this woman a regular customer.

 

-

 

The first time they meet, Wendy's not expecting her to be that pretty when the door opens.

 

She's certainly not expecting to be ushered to sit on the bed and be offered a drink like some friend and not be looked at like some whore instead (it's essentially what she is – there's no point denying it).

 

Many men have had the courtesy to offer a drink, but their eyes were all the same, drinking her in like she was fine wine, their mouths hungry for a taste of her skin.

 

Wendy knew she was of course; she wouldn’t consider herself any less.

 

"Would you care for some tea?"

 

The client asks, a husky delicate melody to her pale white complexion and supple pink lips.

 

She must be stupid.

 

 _Oh well,_ Wendy thinks, _it just means easier money,_ taking her offer and cradling the porcelain cup atop a tiny plate.

 

Wendy doesn't bother hiding her lacy navy blue bra behind her furry beige coat, letting it dangle off her shoulders for air to breeze into her skin and bones.

 

She watches her client pour one for herself, seemingly unperturbed, before settling beside her on the bed of a hotel room that the client had undoubtedly purchased for the night for them to use – which evidently, they were, _though not to its full potential,_ Wendy muses inwardly.

 

She'll take this as a nice break from grungy large hands and giant gnashing teeth. Besides, it's not often she has a female client.

 

"I'm Irene, by the way. But I prefer Joohyun."

 

Her voice spills silk over Wendy's ears, how smooth it curls over her tongue that Wendy's surprised her client is as pretty as her name. That never happens in her line of work.

 

"What's yours?"

 

She eyes the clock on the nightstand just beside the lamp – 10:15 PM. Her shift ends at 11. Time doesn't usually go this fast.

 

Wendy returns her gaze, playing a practiced smile along her lips, well developed for the purpose of her services, and attempts to adapt to this startling difference for one night – memorizing Joohyun's scent of vanilla and lavender and curious, quiet eyes that look like they're willing to listen to stories of anything, everything, and nothing, at all.

 

"It's Wendy."

 

She says, curling a strand of auburn behind her ear, the name tasting of dirty toxin from voices she's heard out of so many men that she's lost count. Wendy figures this'll be okay – it probably won't happen again, anyway.

 

"But I'd like to be called Seungwan instead. Just for tonight."

 

She watches Joohyun hum before the client is raising her hand. It takes Wendy several moments to adjust, blinking confusion away before finally realizing what it meant.

 

"Have you always been this courteous with sluts?"

 

Wendy's used to her own crass tongue – it's always better to acknowledge the obvious than being beaten to the punch; especially when it comes to female clients. They always have something snarky to say, even when most of them were confused of their sexuality and were as curvy as her favorite curly fries.

 

People can't hurt her otherwise.

 

"Have you always been this negative about yourself?"

 

"If you mean honest, then yes." Wendy starts, glancing fingernails streaked in blue and white. "Is there anything worth being positive about?"

 

Wendy's expecting the woman to keep her trap shut. There really isn't anything else the client could say because in this line of work, there is nothing to be proud of.

 

For most people.

 

But Wendy's not most people.

 

Her client smiles.

 

"It's nice to meet you, Seungwan."

 

Wendy pretends she’s not intrigued by Joohyun’s casual nonchalance. She twirls a strand of auburn with her finger, coiling it around her skin.

 

"You're lucky you've bought my attention or I would've laughed at you."

 

Wendy's not used to pleasantries with women; contrary to popular belief, it was easier having conversations with men. They were always lapping up what words she had to offer but with their female counterparts, they were always sharper with their mouths, daggers folded beneath their tongues just to ease their own insecurities.

 

But this was business and just like any other service, customers come first.

 

At least women were softer to touch.

 

"I'll treat you like I treat anyone else." Joohyun says, as if having read her mind.

 

"Forgettable?"

 

Wendy scoffs lightly, the truth inescapable; anticipating a snide remark so normal from a client with self-esteem issues.

 

Joohyun's smile has this tilting curve at the corners, as if it cradles a secret.

 

"Important."

 

The woman's conviction is as sturdy as Wendy's steely habit of self-deprecation.

 

Wendy ignores the fluttering wings of something she knows is utterly hideous flapping in her stomach. She's no teenager.

 

"You're weird."

 

Joohyun still has this secret smile, small yet radiant, like a gleaming lock without a key.

 

Wendy doesn't like how comfortable it is to just talk to someone, let alone her sex client. Then again, she's had plenty of pleasant conversations before, especially with regulars, but there was always that wall of knowing it was all just business.

 

She attempts to dissuade this homey atmosphere and just get right down to it.

 

Wendy gives her a once-over (then twice, slower this time), noting black slim jeans and socks, and a fading purple button-up.

 

She's too used to seeing similar formal dress shirts on the men she's bedded that if she were close enough, Wendy knew she'd peel the buttons off faster than her client could speak.

 

 _Maybe next time,_ Wendy thinks, not wanting to scare off this pretty, _very pretty,_ client.

 

"So let me guess, you're a church girl in a closet? The seemingly perfect daughter in a perfect family who's stuck pretending to be conservative? Or are you exploring your sexuality because you found yourself looking at girls more than you look at guys?"

 

Joohyun laughs from her peripheral and Wendy distracts herself from such music with a nonchalant glance at her own nails.

 

"I'm just a normal person, with a normal family, doing a normal thing."

 

Wendy blows air against the tips of her fingers, flicking off invisible lint.

 

"Paying to have sex?"

 

Joohyun's smile twitches higher at a corner, as if to smirk; Wendy pretends she's not scrutinizing her with a swift flick of the wrist, swishing her nails across her skirt.

 

"Paying to just have a normal conversation."

 

Wendy arches a brow.

 

"Then you're getting ripped off. I'm not cheap."

 

Joohyun hums behind her cup.

 

"You shouldn't be."

 

It's disarming to not be able to tell whether she's being flirted with or not. Joohyun's been oddly calm, horribly unfazed even, that it's a little unnerving.

 

"Are you a serial killer?"

 

Wendy can't help but ask, questions hanging at the tip of her tongue, ready to fall one after another.

 

Joohyun's laugh is light and amused.

 

"No,"

 

"A cop?"

 

"Nope," That gleaming smile is back again, mischievous with a brow raised as if eager to hear more. "But even if I were any of those, what makes you think I'd tell you?"

 

Joohyun is right of course. Nothing in her gut is telling her that she's dangerous, either. That is always a good thing.

 

"Nothing. Just checking."

 

Joohyun's chuckles are soft and Wendy isn't used to the comfy quiet that comes after.

 

The cup is warm under her hands, a stark contrast to her short, _too short,_ skirt and fishnet stockings.

 

Her fur coat is still dangling past her bare shoulders, latching onto her forearms for foundation, navy blue bra visible for Joohyun to see (and speak out on).

 

There was no point in modesty when Wendy knew it was going to come off again anyway.

 

Disturbed at the silence, Wendy does what she does best – her job.

 

Wendy drags her foot up the side of her client's leg, a coy smile crawling up her lips at Joohyun's growing expression of discomfort. She likes how furrowed her brows are just above her nose bridge, how Joohyun attempts to squash down her swallow but Wendy can see her throat above her open collar.

 

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

 

Wendy grins at the strained sound leaving Joohyun's rigid lips.

 

"Yes."

 

Her amusement triples at the low thrum of her client’s voice, like it’s suddenly heavy and Wendy is giddy at the response.

 

"Usually that means I'm turning someone on."

 

"Or," Joohyun begins, a curve growing on the corner of her lips; it looks like a smirk. "You're the one uncomfortable and this is your awkward way of asking someone to massage your foot."

 

"…What?"

 

Wendy has no time to fully process what her client has just said, yelping when Joohyun places her foot on her lap, already uncoiling her black stocking from her skin. Was this girl serious?

 

Joohyun's hands pressing against her skin elicits another squeak from her lips – _oh god she is serious._

 

"Hey, hold on a sec—"

 

"With heels that high I'm not surprised to see bruises."

 

Wendy yelps again when Joohyun touches a more tender spot, attempting to yank her foot back but her client's grip is surprisingly firm around her ankle.

 

Joohyun must be joking.

 

This isn't some kind of innocent foreplay where they pretend to be this corny and mushy and caring. Joohyun's not supposed to be pretending like she cares about her wellbeing – pretending like they're not here together because she paid for Wendy's sexual services.

 

Wendy's not getting paid just to receive a damn foot massage.

 

"The least you could do is take care of yourself better." Joohyun speaks like she knows more, pointing at her bare shoulders. "Your skin looks like it's begging for appreciation."

 

She doesn't have to look to know that Joohyun's referring to the bite marks the client had given her two hours ago.

 

Wendy spots her dodging red patches along her foot, massaging areas that wouldn't hurt her and she thinks that's not supposed to happen.

 

Joohyun continues to spout nonsense like they're friends with her shiny locks of onyx hair and her damn pursed pink lips and that stupid one open button collar-shirt just enough to see her neck. Her pale smooth neck.

 

What a joke.

 

An hour passes just like that, with her client giving her a foot massage and Wendy wondering how her job had taken a reverse.

 

When goodbyes are in order, a purple envelope falls into her hand, the weight a familiar reminder as Wendy tries not to stare up at Joohyun's easy smile.

 

"See you next Friday, Seungwan."

 

Wendy doubts it, if only because she's getting paid for doing literally nothing (not that she's complaining of course, but the client would probably figure out that she's being scammed before then).

 

She waves her off with a flick of her hair and a shooing hand, happy with tonight's work.

 

She'll take Joohyun as a rarity; it's not often she gets money this easy.

 

-

 

The second time they meet, Joohyun still calls her 'Seungwan'.

 

Wendy's well aware she can correct her, be called 'Wendy' again just like any other client she's had (and still has), but there's something in the way Joohyun says her name like it's not dirtying; that despite their circumstances (because here they are, in a hotel room for services far from legal), the name 'Seungwan' is not grinding between soiled teeth and grungy deep voices that crave for her paid body and attention.

 

The two names have always been a way for her to make clear distinctions between what is work and what isn't.

 

For now, as she types up an email, choosing Joohyun over a man who claims biting is more romantic than kissing, Wendy pretends she's not making an exception out of Joohyun.

 

Joohyun has requested an hour earlier than last week's, and when Wendy finds that it overlaps with The Biter, she doesn't hesitate to cancel his appointment (she reasons that she'll make Joohyun a regular too, so if she loses him, she's got someone better).

 

When she clicks her phone shut, zipping her purse to a close, Wendy knocks three times for room 277.

 

Thunk.

 

Thunk.

 

Thunk.

 

When the door opens, she's greeted by that same small smile and a cup being given to her.

 

Joohyun's offering her tea.

 

Again.

 

It's still something Wendy's not used to, but she cradles the cup between her hands anyway, slithering off her fur coat (this time a darker brown compared to her previous creamy beige), letting the skin of her shoulders bare.

 

She sways her hips like she's done so with every client she's ever had, trained legs to bring wandering eyes to their attention despite their short stature, making the walk to the bed like a show's runway.

 

Wendy's acutely aware of Joohyun's gaze following the sweeps of her steps, winking her way when they happen to meet.

 

She giggles at Joohyun's poor attempt at muffling a cough.

 

Her legs take their time looping one over the other, letting her skirt ride up higher just enough to still be classy yet inviting for more than just a casual conversation.

 

Watching Joohyun is becoming her favorite thing to do (with getting money forever being her first, of course), with the way her client attempts to appear nonchalant, pursed lips giving her away.

 

Not that the cough hasn't already.

 

When the bed dips down beside her, Joohyun's taking a sip of her tea and Wendy can't help but recognize that vanilla and lavender again.

 

And that signature button-up shirt most of her clients love to dress up in. It's white this time.

 

A smile latches onto her lips, hiding it behind her cup, juggling the pros and cons of plucking off at least one button on Joohyun's shirt tonight.

 

What harm could come with just one? Besides, the first two buttons up top are already off. What's wrong with one more?

 

Silence crawls in like an old friend, mingling along with several ways she's currently conjuring up to get close enough to touch Joohyun. Wendy's still not sure whether this woman knew exactly what she was paying for.

 

She decides to clear it up.

 

"So what kind of services are you looking for? GFE? Since all we do is talk."

 

"...GFE?"

 

Wendy takes a sip, never forgetting to swirl her tongue slowly along her lips when she's done, licking plump flesh, the raspberry gloss blending into her taste buds. She pretends she doesn't hear Joohyun swallow.

 

She likes how Joohyun pays her the utmost attention; it proves to be both courteous and the client’s potential downfall.

 

"Girlfriend Experience. Good for clients who like to take things slow, pretend like we're a thing." Wendy lists off through the counts of her fingers. "Cuddling, holding hands – mundane things. Like talking."

 

Wendy slithers a finger along her own mouth, the tip pressing gently between her lips, a teasing smile curling on Wendy's face at Joohyun's furrowed brows.

 

"I guess so...?"

 

Wendy claps her hands, ignoring personal space and taking Joohyun's cup to rest on the desk table.

 

"Then GFE it is,"

 

"Huh?"

 

She ignores her client's confusion, crawling towards the center of the bed, before patting down on the space beside her.

 

When Joohyun finally follows along after the fourth slap of her hand against the blanket, Wendy ushers her to lie down.

 

"Um. I'm not really tired..."

 

Joohyun's poor excuse goes past Wendy's ears, barely latching onto the lobes, merely rolling her eyes instead.

 

"Come on, it'll be fun."

 

"How do I know I can trust you?"

 

Wendy snorts, patting the bed again.

 

"Normally clients would be ecstatic that I'm telling them to lie down and hopefully do something _bad_ to them."

 

Joohyun's eyes widen faster than Wendy could register them until the taller woman is spouting nonsense again.

 

"So you _are_ going to do something ba—?"

 

"No!"

 

Wendy laughs at the clear worry that's drawn on Joohyun's face, giving a gentle nudge on her client's shoulder to ease the nervous lines on her lips.

 

When Joohyun's finished sending her one more scrutiny, the client's finally lying on her back (not without the careful stare her way).

 

Wendy sidles up next to her, plopping down so she could wrap an arm over Joohyun's stomach, cuddling close.

 

Before Joohyun could even breathe a word (Wendy's already imagining all the possible rejections the client could muster), Wendy beats her to it.

 

"Now hold me."

 

"What?"

 

Wendy rolls her eyes, shifting to grab Joohyun's rigid arm between them to curl under her neck to act as her pillow.

 

"You're horrible with instructions."

 

She quips, looping a leg over Joohyun's, making herself comfortable because wow, this girl is soft – and a bit bony (if she could, Wendy would stuff her with meat).

 

Joohyun almost sounds like she’s whining; it’s kind of cute.

 

"Because you don't give me a chance to think."

 

"If I did, we wouldn't be lying down comfortably now, would we?"

 

Joohyun scoffs, a clear noise of disagreement but Wendy is keenly aware of the client massaging fingers against her shoulder, rapping knuckles gently along Wendy’s skin; up, then down, and repeat.

 

Wendy wonders if Joohyun even realizes what she's doing.

 

"You might be comfortable." Joohyun says, like she's annoyed. "But I'm feeling a little awkward."

 

Wendy doesn't speak out on Joohyun's contradiction, enjoying the little massage she's getting (out of instinct? Wendy's not quite sure).

 

"You get used to it."

 

She says instead, shutting her eyes at every soft motion Joohyun makes.

 

Wendy has this feeling that if she ever called Joohyun out for it, this comfort would end.

 

Peeking out one eye to catch the third button on Joohyun's white dress shirt, sees how close she is to grab and peel open, Wendy feels her fingers twitch to reach for it – to slide her hand up from the safe haven of Joohyun’s stomach.

 

She'll take off a button next time.

 

Silence filters in again, an ever constant company. It's not something Wendy minds at all though, when paired with Joohyun's soft breathing.

 

Wendy glances at the clock on the nightstand, a habit she’s accumulated for the past few years she’s been an escort, reading that familiar blaring red – 8:48PM. Time certainly does go faster with Joohyun.

 

She lets her eyelids droop to a close, if only to shut away the fact that this is going to end again soon. Wendy doesn’t really want it to.

 

"So you do this? With other clients?"

 

Wendy could feel slumber clawing behind her eyes, fogging her mind, to the rhythm of Joohyun's massaging fingers.

 

"...Yup. And more."

 

She's sure she's about to fall asleep to Joohyun's touch and soft breathing until her client speaks like she's whispering.

 

"...Do you like it?"

 

The hesitation is as blaringly bright as the clock's red glowing numbers, something her clients all share in common (they all love hiding their sins away in hotel rooms, the hour counting down – something Wendy loves to watch).

 

Wendy doesn't hate what she does. It gives her money faster (and bigger) than any other job out there, even with a higher-class profession.

 

"It's easy."

 

She says instead, even though it's not entirely true. But it _has_ gotten easier with time.

 

They stay like that together for the rest of the hour Wendy has left, though she leaves Joohyun a few minutes past deadline because they're too busy juggling which type of tea they should drink next (though Joohyun insists white tea is the best for its gentle aromas and delicate flavors).

 

The purple envelope is just as heavy as the last time she's weighed it, carefully perched in her palm, scented faintly of familiar vanilla and lavender.

 

"See you next week, Seungwan."

 

Wendy nods, pearly white teeth slipping through widening lips.

 

-

 

The third time they meet, Wendy accepts the tea (it’s green this time) like she accepts her payments; routine.

 

Her previous client two hours before was a broken mess, having sobbed about his breakup with his girlfriend and had looked for make up sex.

 

Before Wendy even got to slip off her bra, her client was already wailing, disgusting snot and all, and Wendy knew then that she was to play as pillar of comfort instead.

 

He was a regular anyway, with his puffy curly hair and nerdy square glasses that Wendy hadn't been surprised he was such a softy.

 

They spent her paid hour talking about anything else that didn't make him out to be a sobbing mess.

 

Once his tears had dried and Wendy didn't have to keep rubbing circles against his back anymore, he gave her extra cash and a soft kiss on the cheek: "Thanks for being there."

 

The notion would've made her heart swell, but she had known him for so long since she'd been working that he was a friend at best.

 

Wendy's glad he's a regular client though; it's a plus that he's a sweetheart with a bank full of his parents' money.

 

"What do you do?"

 

Wendy wonders out loud as she slips off her heels, curious of how Joohyun can afford her. She wasn’t kidding when she said she wasn’t cheap.

 

"Hm?"

 

Joohyun's pouring a cup for herself, her hair tied up to a messy ponytail.

 

"Your job,"

 

Wendy asks while she's shrugging off her jacket, letting her black lace bra and matching pencil skirt be the only things that shield her skin.

 

That, and maybe she'll get some sort of cute reaction from the client once she turns around.

 

"I'm part time in two local stores and the hospital, since I'm still in college."

 

Wendy hums, stashing it away for later so she could count the number of possible hours Joohyun would have to work to pay for her services (or lack thereof).

 

Securing her own cup back on the countertop, Wendy prepares a little surprise she's waiting to give Joohyun.

 

Quietly, she's slithering towards her client, trailing gentle palms from the small of Joohyun's back to the slopes of her shoulders, letting her fingertips knead slowly up the lines of Joohyun’s spine, feeling the way her body instinctively reacts to her touch.

 

Wendy blows warm air against the space between Joohyun’s shoulder blades, feeling her client shiver under her breath.

 

"...What are you doing?"

 

Joohyun's voice is rigid and stiff, attempting to play stern but Wendy can hear the tremble of temptation on her lips.

 

Before Wendy gets to speak, Joohyun is turning around, her eyes widening, nearly dropping her tea that Wendy is glad she's close enough to help her catch it.

 

A coy smile plays her lips, helping Joohyun steady the cup with slender fingers wrapped tenderly around the porcelain, making sure her hand is touching Joohyun's too.

 

She leans in slowly so Joohyun can take in every inch of her, letting her breath mingle at the tips of Joohyun's lips.

 

"...Careful," Wendy whispers, her other hand coming up to crawl fingers along Joohyun's arm. "Wouldn't want you to spill that tea or you might have to lick it off me."

 

Joohyun's blinking at her, as if incredulous at her sudden proximity and Wendy almost laughs until her client mutters under her breath, her words playing to Wendy's lips.

 

"But you'd probably be burning from the heat first..."

 

Wendy returns Joohyun's three blinks, letting her response register fully before laughter graces her throat, leaning back to sit on the mattress she's gotten used to resting on.

 

"True," Wendy starts, winking up at Joohyun. "But you didn't say you wouldn't lick me."

 

Joohyun is blanching, her face scrunching up, almost bewildered at the thought.

 

"So you want my tongue to burn too."

 

Joohyun's deadpan voice and unamused stare has Wendy grinning, twirling with a strand of her auburn hair.

 

“At least you’ll know how I taste like.”

 

Her client is rolling her eyes, scoffing, but she doesn’t appear grossed out from it – in fact, Wendy’s a little surprised Joohyun remains the same, typically sitting beside her again, sipping her tea.

 

“Are you this flirty with everyone else?”

 

Joohyun’s question is light and curious, and it makes Wendy smile into her cup, humming as she drinks, the warm liquid a growing custom – she sort of likes it, this sense of camaraderie.

 

“Well, with the other clients, we just get right to it.” Wendy circles a finger along the rim, smooth porcelain, smiling coyly at Joohyun. “But with you, I'm actually exerting effort. You should appreciate that.”

 

Joohyun’s frown curves her lips, brows furrowing, clearly compelled to retort.

 

“But I do. I am paying you, aren't I?”

 

Wendy nudges Joohyun’s ribs, a giggle attempting to escape her throat at her client’s small yelp.

 

“Yeah. To do my job, which is more than attempting to seduce you.”

 

She leans in again, her fingers walking up the slope of Joohyun’s arm. She’s close enough to count the specks of imperfections that makeup doesn’t cover under Joohyun’s eyes, spotting tints of dark circles.

 

Wendy chalks it up to typical juggling between college and jobs, being able to relate on some level the pressures of keeping up and meeting deadlines.

 

“We should be having sex.” Wendy says, tempted to kiss the lines of Joohyun’s chin, both ecstatic and impressed that her client isn’t moving away. “It helps de-stress, you know.”

 

Her hand trails down from Joohyun’s shoulder, fingers fluttering down her chest, nails clawing fading marks over her stomach, before letting them rest on her client’s jean-covered thigh.

 

Wafts of vanilla and lavender are stronger now, when Wendy’s trying not to kiss the tiny sliver of collarbone from Joohyun’s open button-up.

 

 _How cruel of her,_ Wendy thinks, to leave only the top two buttons open.

 

For all of Joohyun’s stiffness and discomfort in anything related to sex, her client is oddly calm to her prying touches and lack of respect for personal space.

 

Wendy can’t figure her out.

 

“I'd rather have your company.”

 

Wendy almost scoffs at the idea of it. But despite herself, Wendy’s happy to hear it; she pretends she isn’t so it won’t show on her face – so it won’t reflect in pink along her cheeks.

 

But it’s hard to ignore the heat creeping up along her neck.

 

“Why?”

 

The question leaves her lips before Wendy could filter it – before she could erase the little window of fragility in that one syllable, her peeking heart coating her voice.

 

She hopes Joohyun can’t hear it.

 

“Why not?”

 

The confusion in Joohyun’s voice is so telling of her character – Wendy wonders how she could be lucky enough to have a client as naïve as her.

 

Suddenly she doesn’t want any other escort to take Joohyun’s attention.

 

“You're paying a lot more money than you should for company.”

 

Wendy says, attempting to play nonchalant, staring casually at her own fingernails of black and white.

 

She sees Joohyun shrug, a curve curling at the corner of her lips. Wendy thinks it's her special mix of a smirk and a smile.

 

“You're worth it.”

 

Wendy can’t help but scoff again; it’s almost laughable – how she’s suddenly hanging onto every word Joohyun says, latching on like she’ll disappear if Wendy doesn’t grip tight.

 

It’s kind of sad.

 

“Are you flirting with me now?”

 

It’s a question Joohyun doesn’t answer, her soft laughter the only response she gives before she’s glancing at the clock, standing up to retrieve a piece of folded…clothing?

 

Before she knew it, Joohyun is passing her a blue jean button-up shirt.

 

“You must really love button-ups.”

 

Wendy remarks, confused and bewildered, lifting the shirt up in her hands to inspect the crisp clean material.

 

It has been ironed to perfection, the lack of creases a pleasant surprise – not even a store could make a button-up look this good.

 

“Because they’re useful in almost any occasion.”

 

“And you’re lending me one because…?”

 

“You’re practically naked.”

 

Wendy glances down at herself, spotting only a black lace bra and black miniskirt (she ditched the fishnet stockings today; showing more leg skin was something the previous client enjoyed) before she is buckling over, snickering and chortling at the fact that her client was actually attempting to cover her up – it was unheard of.

 

Who ever thought there would be a day where an escort’s client preferred them to be modest?

 

Wendy laughs, letting her cheeks go pink, a perfect excuse for her face to blur into heat because it's easier to hide and ignore the affection she's feeling in her chest.

 

She lets it play out like it’s an after-effect from the absurdity of it all and not because she likes that Joohyun’s treating her with such warmth.

 

“Okay,”

 

Wendy says amusedly, putting it on, slowly, that from the corner of her eyes she could see how Joohyun is squirming from the pace.

 

When it’s finally on, she doesn’t bother closing it, leaving it to dangle from her shoulders, her bra still visible in all its lacy beauty.

 

Joohyun takes notice, huffing.

 

“Can you please close it? You're defeating the purpose I've given it to you in the first place.”

 

“It's not like I wanted to wear it.”

 

“Then why are you wearing it?”

 

“Because you're lending me clothes like I'm your girlfriend.”

 

Joohyun coughs air and Wendy thinks it’s cute, how flushed the taller woman’s cheeks could be.

 

Wendy could feel her shoulder go bare, her shirt slipping from the giggles she can’t hide.

 

“Careful there, unnie.” Wendy grins as she leans back on the bed, recalling Joohyun’s profile – _age 26_ , letting the apparel slide down her shoulders as she crosses her legs. “You're going red like you got caught.”

 

Joohyun scoffs, settling her tea on the countertop like she’s suddenly made up her mind on the next course of action.

 

Wendy watches Irene plop down beside her again, leaning in that Wendy could feel the heat crawl up her neck again at Joohyun’s approach.

 

She’s about to question the client’s change in behavior until Joohyun is grasping at something behind her, feeling the cool material rise up her arm, forcing her shirt to loop over bare skin.

 

Oh. So that’s what she’s doing.

 

An idea clicks in Wendy’s head, the thought making her smile behind hushed lips.

 

As soon as Joohyun buttons up the first one, Wendy latches onto the older woman's shirt and unbuttons one of hers.

 

“...What are you doing?”

 

Wendy feels mischievous, shuffling closer towards her so her hands can better grip the older woman's shirt.

 

“Let's play a game.” She giggles at Joohyun's rolling eyes. “For every button you close on mine, I'll unbutton one of yours.”

 

Joohyun looks like she wants to choke again.

 

“W-What?”

 

Wendy taps Joohyun's nose with a gentle finger, her stomach jumping at the red flush gradually rising from Joohyun's neck. She can feel her own skin burn up but the thought excites her.

 

It was innocent enough anyway. Compared to all the things she's already done at least.

 

“Whoever's the fastest wins. Ready? On three,”

 

Joohyun's lips purse and Wendy can already see the protest attempting to slip through.

 

She can't have that.

 

Dragging her finger down, Wendy unclasps the next button, smiling impishly at Joohyun's widening eyes.

 

Who needs an actual countdown to start when Joohyun’s shirt already has the first two buttons open?

 

_Three,_

 

“H-Hey you can't do that, that's—“ Joohyun’s syllables come out like rapid fire.

 

Wendy is quick to unloop the fourth button, a portion of Joohyun's black bra peeking through.

 

They’re matching in terms of color – _how cute._

 

But her thought abruptly stops short when her wrists are suddenly put into a lock, pushing them over her head and pressuring her to lie against the bed.

 

Her breath escapes her, puffs of air squeezing between her teeth as she stares at Joohyun hovering above her.

 

"...That's cheating."

 

Joohyun breathes, long ebony falling past her shoulders to cradle Wendy into a box like it’s trapping her.

 

She doesn’t mind it at all though, when Joohyun’s between her legs; she’s kind of tempted to lock her client in by the waist. Wendy’s quite confident about the muscles in her thighs and knows she could keep Joohyun here above her, all night.

 

If only the red would stop rising up her own neck, Wendy thinks, hoping Joohyun can’t see her blush, hopes that she’s too busy buttoning up the shirt for her to pay attention to the way Wendy’s heart practically rings in her ears.

 

Wendy clears her throat, hoping her embarrassment doesn't show in her voice.

 

"Look who's cheating now?"

 

She doesn’t expect her client to lean in, doesn’t expect the Cheshire smile to grace lush lips, doesn’t expect the teasing glint in Joohyun’s eyes, but they happen and it makes Wendy’s spine shiver in delight and her body scalding hot under her gaze.

 

Joohyun is sinfully close to her lips.

 

"I'm a quick learner."

 

It takes everything Wendy’s learned about self-control not to lean up and smash their mouths together.

 

But the moment disappears as fast as it comes, and Joohyun’s standing up to fix her own shirt, sealing up the slivers of skin before rummaging through her bag (a brown satchel with what looks to be books stuffed inside), recognizing the purple envelope.

 

Wendy’s suddenly reminded of her purpose there, eyes swiveling to the clock (that she hasn’t looked at during their time together – 9:10PM), that she’s an escort and she’s getting paid to spend time with Joohyun – it’s like a slap in the face.

 

She sits up, glancing at the blaring red numbers again (to remind herself not to forget that it exists), and realizes moments later, when she’s done slipping on her heels and her coat, registers the familiar cool touch of Joohyun’s hand when the envelope fits her palm before the door is closing to a shut, that she’s still wearing Joohyun’s button-up.

 

Wendy spins around, uncharacteristically stumbling back towards a closing door and Joohyun’s curious eyes.

 

“Did you forget something?”

 

“Your shirt,”

 

Wendy’s about to slip off her coat before Joohyun’s hand is curling against her own, her grip firm but gentle, like a blanket over her skin.

 

“Keep it.”

 

Somehow, there’s more authority to Joohyun’s voice, that as much as Wendy wants to protest, return something that isn’t hers, she listens, receiving Joohyun’s mysterious smile before the door shuts and Wendy’s left standing there, recalling the slow way her client had unclasped her hand.

 

Heels clacking down the corridor, Wendy heads home with a bounce in her step, tugging the collar of Joohyun’s shirt up so she could snuggle her nose into it.

 

She can’t wait to sleep to vanilla and lavender.

 

-

 

The fourth time they meet, Wendy’s surprise is spilling from her lips.

 

"I didn't know you wear glasses."

 

She’s slipping off her heels, then her coat (now a furry grey), her lacy bra a new color that she’s purchased from her shopping spree with a previous client who wanted her to dress up in a provocative cop outfit for his fantasy a few hours ago.

 

Wendy admits she had fun roleplaying, especially with the whip she got to use on him; his back will probably be splotched with lines of red for a couple of days.

 

Oh well. He had fun squealing.

 

She made sure to change out of it once her shift with him ended, cleaning up into sultry simplicity of just a deep dark purple bra and matching lace panty, hardly shielded over by a transparent black silk dress that stops above her knees.

 

Wendy hadn’t missed the way Joohyun’s eyes paused over her as soon as the door opened for room 277, having caught how her client’s mouth dropped into a tiny ‘o’.

 

It’s the first real reaction Wendy’s had from Joohyun that isn’t comprised of her usual stiff response of a rigid tongue and stiff posture.

 

She watches from the corner of her eyes, amused, as she dumps her coat on the bottom edge of the bed, how Joohyun copes with a gaping mouth that doesn’t seem to remember how to stay closed.

 

“Like what you see?”

 

Wendy can’t help the tease that slips her lips, curling a strand of auburn behind her own ear, feeling the cool dangling touch of her amethyst earring fluttering from the motion.

 

Joohyun is swallowing like she’s finally realized what she was doing, coughing into a hand before swiveling around to walk to the bed, settling down with her back against the headboard, a book in her hand.

 

Wendy feels a smile curl on her lips at Joohyun’s adorable stutter.

 

"I-I need them for, um, reading."

 

Oh she is _definitely_ going to have fun with this Joohyun.

 

With confident strides, Wendy approaches her with purpose, remembering one important detail, as she crawls on the bed like a panther to its prey, to settle on Joohyun’s lap.

 

She feels proud for being the reason to Joohyun’s cheeks turning a savory hue of red, reminding her of juicy apples and how much Wendy just wants to have a little taste.

 

Wendy leans in so their chests almost touch, pressing Joohyun’s book down with a finger to draw words against the slope of Joohyun’s ear, letting her teeth graze the skin gently, before trapping it between her lips, nibbling lightly.

 

“You forgot to give me tea,”

 

She whispers into Joohyun’s ear, pressing sly fingers onto her client’s exposed collarbone, Joohyun’s new button-up of red once again remaining with just the two top circles unlaced.

 

As quickly as it comes, the blush gradually leaves Joohyun’s face to paint surprise, her skin slowly returning to its paler color, attempting to move.

 

“Oh, right! Just let me—“

 

Joohyun’s making things flutter in Wendy’s stomach for the innocent and quick response, like it was instinctive and that it was their sort of thing to greet each other with tea.

 

She hates how much she’s loving it – this high school sweetheart bucket of feelings that is too fairytale for Wendy’s taste.

 

Wendy curls delicate fingers under the client’s circle-rimmed frames, lifting it up so it'd sit over Joohyun's forehead.

 

"Wha—"

 

Before Joohyun gets to protest, Wendy presses a chaste kiss on the space between her eyes, right above her nose.

 

She probably would’ve appreciated high school more if Joohyun had been her sweetheart.

 

Wendy leans back just enough so she could still count the specks of confusion on Joohyun's face, how her lips curl into a frown.

 

She wants to kiss it into a smile.

 

"Will you need them when you finally get to reading me too?"

 

Joohyun’s tilting her head, ebony strands falling over her shoulder and Wendy refrains from curling it back to loop behind her client’s ear.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Wendy grins, curling auburn strands behind her ear.

 

She can’t have her stomach doing tumbles and flips and a bunch of butterflies littering about and crashing against its walls for this long. She knows better than that.

 

Wendy didn’t start escorting to fall in love with her client.

 

"Oh you know, when we have sex eventually."

 

Joohyun's rolling her eyes, plucking her glasses back to sit on the bridge of her nose, her circle frames making her more adorable than she already was.

 

Wendy pretends she's not squealing on the inside at how cute she looks. She can do this; be platonic and casual and giddy at adorable people and adorable things.

 

“You're supposed to be paying attention to me, not reading some lame book.”

 

She can do this.

 

“I'm studying.”

 

“You've got the right idea…” Wendy says, pushing down her book again with a deft finger. “…but you're reading up on the wrong subject.”

 

Wendy leans in, twiddling with Joohyun's collar as a smile curves her lips. She's comfortably settled on Joohyun's lap, running her free hand slowly along the client's rigid arm. She's not surprised Joohyun has clammed up – the woman always did whenever they got remotely close within centimeters of each other's lips.

 

“Do you always wear button-up shirts?”

 

Wendy watches Joohyun breathe in, as if to calm herself before her syllables flutter between the tiny gap that keeps their faces apart.

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

“Isn't it? It's as if you're teasing me, and I can't help but tease back.”

 

Wendy fiddles with the top button of her collar shirt. Most of her clients had suits before she'd bed them; the apparel was nothing new to her sly fingers. Perhaps she should thank them for providing practice because unbuttoning shirts have become reflex.

 

“You’re always naked,” Joohyun snorts, as if to reprimand, derailing from the topic entirely.

 

Wendy’s eyes widen when Joohyun’s reaching over for her satchel, placing her book to the side and digging through, not once pushing her off to make the job easier. Wendy attempts to take a peek, but all she sees is a bunch of other books again before Joohyun is pulling out a plastic bag.

 

“What’s that?”

 

Joohyun doesn’t answer her, shoving her things aside to pluck out what looks to be another folded item.

 

It can’t be.

 

It’s _another_ button-up; red and black plaid this time.

 

How many of these does Joohyun actually have?

 

“I was expecting you to wear the one I gave you last week,” Joohyun starts, an easy smile crawling along her lips. “But just in case, I brought an extra one and voila – you’re naked again. I’m glad I came prepared.”

 

_(“Did you forget something?”_

_“Your shirt,”_

_“Keep it.”)_

In all honesty, Wendy wanted to wear it to work; it had made her sleep faster than any giant bundle of blankets she could snuggle into this past week. But it would’ve been too embarrassing to bring in front of her client – it would suggest they were something more and Wendy knew they were nothing at best.

 

Also, she didn’t want anyone else’s hands, especially not sweaty, dirty, grungy, oversized, fingers to smear their slimy skin all over it.

 

Wendy blinks thoughts away when she feels Joohyun loop the apparel over her shoulders, tugging gently.

 

"Now put your arms through the sleeves so I can close it."

 

Wendy hates the way Joohyun is looking at her, with those eyes that stare at her like what they’re doing is completely and utterly normal.

 

"Usually people would be ripping my clothes off, not covering me up."

 

Joohyun shrugs.

 

"I'm not one of them."

 

Wendy laughs, letting their noses touch, finding it both endearing and worrisome that Joohyun doesn’t nudge her away. It’s almost frustrating how Joohyun lets her be this close, like she could do what she wants; have her way with her.

 

"…Yeah. You're not."

 

Joohyun hums, closing the buttons for her, giving Wendy ample time to just watch the way Joohyun’s brows crinkle in focus, her lips jutted into a small pout.

 

Wendy ignores how affection is rising up in her chest, aiming to distract herself by playing with a strand of Joohyun’s hair; it’s as soft as it looks.

 

“I’m not naked though,”

 

Wendy is gesturing to her dress. In fact, it was the most modest she had ever been with Joohyun.

 

Joohyun’s chuckles tickle her lips and it’s enough to make Wendy hold her breath – like she hadn’t experienced such intimacy in so long (that was a lie though; she had already kissed someone a few hours ago).

 

“It’s see-through.”

 

Wendy lets Joohyun clam the last button near her neck before Joohyun is leaning back, retrieving her book – _Biological Sciences: Foundation of Life._

 

So she’s a science student.

 

Yawning behind a hand, Wendy settles for sitting next to her, leaving Joohyun's lap to get comfortable against the headboard.

 

She rests on Joohyun's shoulder, peeking at the contents of her client's book.

 

"Read out loud for me?"

 

Wendy's feeling childish tonight, looking for warmth as she curls her arms around Joohyun's, snuggling closer, wanting to listen to her client's voice.

 

"It's not exactly a bedtime story,"

 

Joohyun says, almost like a whisper, as if readjusting her volume like she knew Wendy just wants to close her eyes – pull the curtains down on the world (she was right, of course).

 

Wendy could see the clock from her peripheral blaring in bright red: 8:57PM. Her paid time with Joohyun is almost over – just three minutes left.

 

Wendy doesn’t want it to end, though. She hopes Joohyun won’t move – that she won’t get up to give her that purple envelope that always reminds Wendy that this was just a business transaction; nothing more, and nothing less.

 

"I just want to sleep to your voice."

 

Wendy means every word, hiding growing flushed cheeks deeper into Joohyun's shoulder so the older woman can't see her go pink.

 

She pouts into the material of Joohyun's crisp button-up, ears feeling red at the client's quiet giggles before she hears her speak.

 

Joohyun's voice is soft and warm; a childhood lullaby Wendy's been missing for so long.

 

"There once was a ribosome..."

 

Wendy smiles at Joohyun's cute attempt at mixing typical fairytale descriptions with science terms.

 

Slowly, she feels her fingers fall limp, hands loosely tied around Joohyun’s arm to the slope of her wrist. Her mouth begins to part, letting life breathe steady out of her lips, her chest a calm rise and fall, mind drowning in wafts of sweet lavender and soft vanilla.

 

She sleeps to Joohyun's adorable narrative, talking about translation and making proteins, snuggling closer so even her leg loops over Joohyun's.

 

How warm.

 

"And the tRNA floats away..."

 

Wendy spends the night in Joohyun’s hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I won’t be detailing every sexcapade Wendy has. I’m not good with that. Also, this is meant to be fluff, so hopefully it actually was. Oh, and just so you’re warned beforehand, next chapter may contain rated M things. I will put another warning once it’s up though.


	2. Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are rules Wendy has made to make sure her work never crosses the line into her private life.

There are rules Wendy has made to make sure her work never crosses the line into her private life.

 

First, she makes them call her Wendy.

 

No one but those who matter can call her Seungwan; and none of her clients should know of her other name either. It draws a clear distinction for herself and others in terms of work.

 

Second, the maximum amount of time she's allowed herself to give to a client is an extra fifteen minutes past the paid hour.

 

She doesn't want to give more than what was offered, but regulars tend to form with the little bit of effort of pretending that she cares enough to stay a little longer for her clients. It also gives a sense of familiarity and comfort that the meeting isn't entirely just business. At least, to her customers.

 

Third, never spend a night with a client; it entails more than just a job and her customers need to know that she's a woman with no strings attached.

 

Plenty have spoiled her with lavish gifts to entice her to stay, but Wendy can't prioritize one client over the other when they're all the same: her source of income.

 

But here she is, fiddling with a strand of ebony on her pretty client's head the morning after a night of hearing a bedtime story and not sex, breaking all the rules she's had for the past few years she’s been an escort.

 

Wendy tries to convince herself that Joohyun's an exception to each rule, that she hasn't broken a single one, but she'd be lying because Joohyun is as much of a paying client as all the others.

 

It's a shame, Wendy thinks with a smile on her lips, cradling her chin in her hands as she stares at the way Joohyun breathes, her elbows playing as perfect leverage for the very pretty view she gets to watch and see.

 

Out of all the clients she gets to sleep with, Joohyun's the one she’d love to pleasure the most. How ironic that the client wants nothing more than to just talk.

 

Wendy stifles a giggle behind a hand at Joohyun's instinctive motion of rubbing her cheek into her pillow. How cute.

 

She didn't think she'd actually wake up with Joohyun.

 

It was a pleasant surprise to have her eyes open to Joohyun's neck, having felt how her eyelashes fluttered against skin, an unfamiliar picture of having arms wrapped around her in the early morning (she had spotted the clock blaring 7:23AM).

 

It took careful hands too used to making feather-light touches across foreign bodies for Wendy to finally unlatch Joohyun’s grip without waking her.

 

And now she’s here, elbows propped on crinkled sheets, cheeks cradled in her hands as she watches Joohyun breathe, still very much sound asleep. Only one thing plays in her head, a small smile etching itself on Wendy’s lips.

 

Why didn’t Joohyun wake her up?

 

It didn’t take Wendy long to notice how her body had shifted from the headboard to having a pillow tucked beneath her and a blanket draped over, just under her chin. It was safe to assume that Joohyun had repositioned them both to end up cuddling under the sheets.

 

As much as the thought of Joohyun going through the hassle of making sure she didn’t wake up to her movements color her ears warm, Wendy’s more concerned about the fact that she _did._

 

If anything, it was easier to nudge her awake, pass her the purple envelope, and tell her that they’d see each other again next Friday – like always.

 

Fiddling with the top button of the shirt Joohyun had once again leant to her, Wendy pretends she’s not aware of that icky slithering feeling called ‘attachment’, worm its way around her heart, shuffling carefully out of bed.

 

Taking the provided pen and notepad off the nightstand of the hotel room (she spots two room keys on the table; maybe Joohyun wanted a spare?), Wendy scribbles a few words for her adorable, but weird, client.

 

There was no point in staying any longer anyway; her shift was done and it was finally the weekend; two full days without hotel rooms and horny men.

 

Once she’s done, Wendy’s shrugging off the button-up, re-folding so it could look at least, faintly, like it was never worn, and settles it next to Joohyun, placing the note right on top.

 

Grabbing her purse and fur coat, Wendy slips on her heels, glancing momentarily at the purple envelope peeking out of Joohyun’s bag; a reminder that their time together, at the core of it all, was merely a business exchange.

 

Wendy doesn’t take it.

 

Spinning around, she leaves, making sure the door clicks quietly behind her.

 

-

 

The fifth time they meet, it’s not in a hotel room, and it's not a Friday.

 

She has her scheduled Thursday date with The Bowtie.

 

He's a nice guy, treating her with respect and the decency of a normal human being (because some clients love to insinuate that escorts are lesser than the dirt they step on).

 

His cologne is pungent and sharp, a signature scent of masculinity that has Wendy slightly aroused whenever they meet, his chivalry often times a rarity to find in others. He's a gentleman with plenty of charm, oozing with a flare of a white toothy smile and side-swept hair combed back to slick perfection that had Wendy not met Joohyun, she probably would've ranked him as her number one client (like she always did, until _her_ ).

 

She had been enamored with his height and lean build too; not to mention how handsome he was, calling over looks from passing strangers both male and female whenever they walked together.

 

Polite and courteous, well-mannered and attentive, Wendy always enjoyed spending her nights on Thursdays at 7PM in his arms.

 

She’s glad she gets to end each week with the last two days of clients she favors most.

 

"Are you up for dinner?"

 

His voice is sweet and deep that Wendy's surprised he's not working as a movie narrator instead (though he always said he preferred modeling).

 

Wendy nuzzles into his side, his arm secured comfortably around her waist, her heels clacking in step with his always-polished brown dress shoes into the pharmacy section of a store.

 

"Only if you're paying."

 

Wendy grins at his kiss on the top of her head, hearing his muttered chuckle "Of course," coloring heat across her scalp.

 

They're currently shopping for condoms.

 

It was no surprise that he had run out (he was always a lady's man – he even talks about his latest endeavors). Wendy was prepared for things like that though, carrying a pack in her purse, but there was no fun in telling the men she had some if they were all too willing to go through the hassle of getting one themselves.

 

Besides, it helped kill time and Wendy always loved getting to see how much her client would pay for her appreciation.

 

When he leaves her side to scroll through the aisle of different condoms, no doubt searching for a high-quality brand, Wendy walks around, eyeing the makeup section, wondering if she should try on a new shade of lipstick.

 

Maybe a deeper, more luscious, bold, red?

 

“Seungwan?”

 

Wendy shouldn't really find Joohyun all that attractive anymore when her work uniform looks much like her casual outfits when they're spending a paid hour together.

 

Hair tied to a high ponytail so her sharp brows and smooth jawline draw attention from any eye, paired with a typical white formal dress shirt (oh look at all those _buttons_ ), and sleek black pants plus shoes – the image really shouldn't make Wendy all that surprised.

 

The only differences happen to be the nametag on the side of her chest – _Irene,_ and the fact that they're not in the small privacy of a hotel room.

 

Words curl along her tongue faster than the tint of heat Wendy could feel scalding up her neck.

 

"Button-ups even at work, hm?"

 

Wendy's glad she's practiced enough times to pretend like she's not surprised, walking up slowly, dragging a deft finger down the lines of circles on Joohyun's shirt.

 

Suddenly Wendy's excited at the fun she could have from plucking them off, one by one.

 

There's always a sense of thrill when public eyes could catch them in the act.

 

"I kind of want to play our game again,"

 

Joohyun's snort has Wendy laughing, curling her arms over the older woman's shoulders to reach for the circle string tied to ebony hair. She lets their faces grow closer, just enough so she could spot the curiosity in Joohyun's eyes.

 

"That'll only work if you're wearing a button-up, too." Joohyun says, her lips tugging up at the corners that Wendy's impressed she's playing along. "But let me guess, you're naked again, aren't you."

 

Wendy brushes their noses together, watches the way Joohyun's eyes shut for a second like it would hide her surprise. She doesn't miss the way Joohyun holds her breath, tucking it away behind closed lips.

 

To think she has some sort of effect on Joohyun is a thrill all on its own.

 

"Open my coat and you'll find out."

 

Joohyun is scoffing, her eyes rolling like they always do when she finds anything absurd; a habit Wendy's grown to find incredibly charming.

 

"I'd probably get fired for touching a customer inappropriately."

 

Wendy smirks, sliding a hand from Joohyun's silky tresses down to the first circle of her collar shirt; all of the buttons are sealed in place.

 

It makes her want to rip them off more.

 

"I thought a store's priority is customer satisfaction? If anything..." Wendy fiddles with the button on Joohyun's collar. "…I'm not quite satisfied yet."

 

"Then let me help you with that."

 

Before Wendy could process the words, Joohyun's unbuttoning the top three circles from her own uniform.

 

Wendy's eyes widen as fast as her hands come down from Joohyun's shoulders to stop her.

 

"W-Wait, Joohy—"

 

Wendy's not prepared for Joohyun's hands to curl against her jacket, feeling hot when Joohyun's fingers fiddle with the three buttons she's left unclasped, closing her chest up to hide behind fur.

 

How typical of her.

 

"It's cold out so the least you could do is cover up better." Joohyun says, patting her jacket down. "It's too bad I don't have extra pants for you to wear though."

 

Wendy's used to wearing skirts in autumn; it's not that bad when her coat extends past her knees. None of her clients complain anyway, considering they always praise her skin for how smooth it looks and reflects in touch.

 

Wendy’s blinking thoughts away when Joohyun knocks her forehead with a tender knuckle.

 

"We played our game. Happy?"

 

Joohyun's smile is tiny but it makes more impact against Wendy's chest than any man's suave toothy attempts.

 

She's not sure what she's feeling; she knows she's happy, but she also has this sense of relief that Joohyun's homey kindness extends past the paid hour they share in a hotel room.

 

There's no reason for Joohyun to care this much though. It's not Friday.

 

"You're not the one paying me tonight," Wendy starts, pulling away, rubbing at her forehead, a smile cracking her lips. "Customer satisfaction, remember?" Joohyun's frown has Wendy's heart doing a little flip. "I'll be yours tomorrow."

 

Before the protest could leave Joohyun's lips, Wendy can feel his arm slither back around her waist, his mouth pressing words into her ear.

 

"I got it."

 

Wendy plays her usual smile, her hands already going through the motions of wrapping themselves around him, body automatically snuggling into his side.

 

Joohyun's coughing into her hand, her posture slightly stiff that had Wendy not already known the woman, she would've never caught the flare in her eyes.

 

How cute.

 

"Would that be all?"

 

Joohyun's voice is draped with iron practice for customer service etiquette, her smile giving nothing away except a pleasant welcome.

 

The Bowtie is nodding his head as they follow Joohyun towards the register, the box of condoms passing from his hand and into Joohyun's slim pale fingers.

 

Wendy's glad their skins haven't touched.

 

As much as she has respect for tonight's client, she knows his hands aren't as clean as Joohyun's. Not when he has touched as many women as Wendy has touched men.

 

"Your girlfriend?"

 

It's lighthearted, meant to be for quaint conversation but Wendy's still surprised that Joohyun is bothering to ask when she _knows._

 

The Bowtie pulls her closer, his warmth molding into her fur coat.

 

"Something like that,"

 

"She's beautiful."

 

Wendy pretends she's used to hearing those types of compliments (she is of course, but not from Joohyun), giggling in turn, resting against his shoulder, smiling out of both courtesy and slight confusion.

 

"Why thank you, Irene." Wendy says, tasting Joohyun's other name, how it rolls over her tongue. "You're not so bad yourself. Buttons look great on you."

 

Wendy spots a small tug upwards at the corner of Joohyun's lips, twitching to smile.

 

Joohyun is gesturing to the man again as she slips the box of condoms into a plastic bag.

 

"You'll treat her well, I hope?"

 

"Of course,"

 

He replies with a toothy smile Wendy's seen too often to swoon over now, recognizing the usual flirtatious arch of his brow.

 

Wendy doesn't miss his lowered gaze towards the little open sliver of skin of Joohyun's chest, her uniform still not completely closed.

 

Joohyun's as indifferent as ever.

 

"Glad to hear it." The taller woman says, dropping his exact change into the register, before passing the bag over. "Enjoy your evening."

 

Wendy takes the item for them, beating him to it so she could run her fingers over the tips of Joohyun's fingers, the fleeting touch lighting a spark in Wendy's chest.

 

She leans over the counter so Joohyun's uniform is easier to reach and whispers so they'd be the only two who hears.

 

"I like it better when I'm the only one who can look."

 

Wendy clasps the buttons back on, flicking invisible creases on her shirt and straightening out her collar before she pulls back, amused at Joohyun's cheeks going pink.

 

She sends Joohyun a wink and a paired flying kiss, grinning at Joohyun's scowl before she's turning back around, latching tighter onto a man who knew how to work his charm (but thankfully not with Joohyun).

 

It's time for work.

 

-

 

Today, just like the past four Fridays, at 8PM sharp, Wendy walks in to room 277 with a cup of tea being offered to her and Joohyun’s welcoming smile.

 

Wendy pretends she doesn’t feel her stomach churn with a bunch of stupid butterflies and takes the drink with a smooth hand, slipping off her heels and her jacket with as much grace as she can without the blush crawling along her skin distracting her.

 

But Joohyun always seems to know how to catch her off guard, the words spilling hot pink along the rims of her ears.

 

“Why didn't you stay?”

 

It doesn’t take much brain cells for Wendy to know what Joohyun was referring to (that one morning they had together), dropping her jacket (another fur coat of black this time) on the bed, settling down to cross her legs, her miniskirt of navy blue and matching bra as well as her dark fishnet stockings keeping her skin company.

 

Her eyes catch the two room keys on the nightstand – again. Joohyun doesn’t need an extra considering she never leaves the room. Maybe she’s being precautious? Prone to losing things?

 

“I'm a busy girl.”

 

She wasn’t.

 

Not on the weekends, at least (which Wendy knew all too well that she woke up to a very free Saturday morning in Joohyun’s arms).

 

"Why, did you want me to?" Wendy asks, brow raised.

 

Wendy almost squeals at the cute blush filtering into Joohyun's cheeks, how her client scoffs to ease the red off her skin; which Wendy feels all too well on her own ears.

 

"I just thought it'd be a waste to leave without the free breakfast..."

 

It takes the gears to turn in Wendy's head before she realizes what Joohyun means, laughing once it processes.

 

She can barely hide the grin behind her cup at Joohyun’s rolling eyes and hasty explanation.

 

"What? I'm just being practical. It comes with the hotel reservation..." Joohyun mutters quietly, scratching at her cheek.

 

Wendy tries not to show she's melting from it.

 

"I'm glad after we talk every Friday that you're enjoying yourself the next morning with the hotel's breakfast."

 

"Well, I _am_ paying for it."

 

She can’t help but arch a brow at Joohyun’s words, a grin crawling along her mouth again.

 

"And you're paying for my time too, so I don't see why you won't use my services to its full potential."

 

Wendy slithers careful fingers along Joohyun's jawline, pulling her chin gently towards her lips so her words caress the skin.

 

She can feel Joohyun shudder under feather touches.

 

“I am quite the main course, you know.”

 

She smiles at Joohyun's swallow, her throat seemingly so thick with a ball of lard that Wendy could even hear the echoing gulp.

 

Wendy can't help but tease a little more.

 

“Sounds like you're hungry for me already.”

 

She's cackling from Joohyun's abrupt movement, how her client shoots to stand so fast that the bed bounces a little, grinning up at her client's pink dusted cheeks. Wendy watches the way Joohyun's eyes suddenly dart anywhere else but at her, her hands clearly looking for something solid to hold onto.

 

"I-I, um, tea! Right. Yeah. Tea."

 

Wendy feels a little bad for being the cause of Joohyun's stuttering lips and fingers, watching how the taller woman struggles with holding the cup, her limbs rattling as if still being electrocuted.

 

She attempts to dispel the embarrassed jitters off Joohyun, playing mercy to such a cute picture and locking the image away in her memory to look back on later.

 

"Why didn't you wake me up that night?" Wendy starts, glancing down at her nails polished with stars. "You knew when my time was up."

 

To this day, Wendy still couldn’t understand why it happened. She didn't think her client would actually let her stay the night. After all, Joohyun had only paid for an hour of her time.

 

Just like herself, she understands that her clients have their own schedules to abide by; time doesn't stall for anyone.

 

"You said you wanted to sleep."

 

Joohyun's not wracking the poor cup with tremors anymore, how she's carefully pouring her tea into the ceramic container like she hadn't just been shaking moments ago.

 

Wendy raises a brow, half amused and half confused at Joohyun's laidback obedience.

 

"So you _do_ know how to follow instructions."

 

The quip carries more fond affection than snappy retort for Wendy's taste; it carries a warmth her tongue's not used to displaying for someone else other than her family to hear.

 

That's not a good thing.

 

She needs a distraction – buttons always did the trick.

 

Joohyun is scoffing, her cheeks no longer the adorable hue of pink dust as she settles back on the bed, resting against the headboard like that one Friday evening Wendy remembers all too well.

 

Wendy follows her despite the prickling rationale of keeping a distance (reasons with herself that this was still part of the job – she’ll just have fun; nothing more), nestling into the spot next to her, her bare arm and shoulder squishing against Joohyun’s white button-up sleeve.

 

It’d be a little boring to pluck the circles off her shirt again; Joohyun would probably anticipate it too; she needs to spice it up a bit.

 

Her eyes wander slowly from the crisp edges of Joohyun’s top to the clasped circle of her client’s denim jeans.

 

Perfect.

 

"Because I got to think."

 

Wendy attempts to scrape away the affection building up like a pile of disgusting mold in her chest, hacking it off her tongue before it escapes past her lips.

 

"So what if you don't have time to think?"

 

She can't be biased towards one client; she knows they all come and go.

 

They tend to move on, have girlfriends or boyfriends, find passion and pleasure in something more productive like work and school. Wendy's had her fair share of meaningful goodbyes from good clients, remembers how they had often spoiled her with overblown presents and parties and giant hugs before giving her letters and telling her how much they loved her for her company.

 

Wendy won't admit that she had cried over them once she arrived home, tucking all of their gifts and letters into a closet too big for her. Being an escort meant building relationships; it also meant learning how to move on and keep going.

 

It's a little depressing to think about how all her clients who have left feel like they've found something better in life and she's still stuck in a box of one.

 

There's no reason for Joohyun to be any different.

 

At least she has plenty of others who can keep her company; escorting never ends when there's always someone looking for pleasure.

 

"You already know, don't you? You'd make me listen." Joohyun says behind her cup.

 

_(“Now hold me.”_

_“What?”_

_“You’re horrible with instructions.”_

_“Because you don’t give me a chance to think.”_

_“If I did, we wouldn’t be lying down comfortably now, would we?”)_

 

Wendy grins at the memory, feeling proud – as well as this horrible tenderness for Joohyun that’s attempting to drown her lungs and fill them up with a bunch of cotton.

 

As if it could combat the steady rise of affection growing in her chest, Wendy distracts herself with her client, turning to curl close into Joohyun’s side, looping her arm over Joohyun’s, Wendy’s other hand crawling underneath to lace their fingers together.

 

Right. Girlfriend Experience.

 

She can do this.

 

“…Seungwan?”

 

Wendy ignores the question in Joohyun’s voice, pretending not to feel how her client’s breath tickles her forehead.

 

She lets her fingers teasingly glide down the slopes of Joohyun’s sleeve, over the soft contours of her stomach, for the button on Joohyun's jeans.

 

She's impressed that Joohyun's letting her play with the circle clasp on her pants. Wendy wants to see how far she's allowed to go.

 

Thumb and index cradling it close, Wendy unclasps it open.

 

Joohyun merely stares at her.

 

“Hi.” Wendy chirps, giddy.

 

The woman blinks.

 

“…Hi.”

 

Wendy grins, feeling cheeky, especially seeing how Joohyun’s chest rises to a pause, holding her breath.

 

Her fingers begin to fiddle with the zipper.

 

"I better not hear it go down." Joohyun quips smoothly, like she hadn’t just been holding in air in her lungs.

 

Wendy pouts, whining playfully. It’s tempting.

 

"Aw, but I like the sound of it."

 

Joohyun shrugs.

 

She laughs, amused at Joohyun's laidback behavior and clasps back the button on her jeans, feeling a grin carve her lips at Joohyun’s approving nod.

 

"Thank you." Her client says before she’s sipping on her tea again.

 

Wendy sticks a tongue out at Joohyun's smile, so mockingly patronizing. But for all the lack of sex she has with this particular client, Wendy's never felt more alive.

 

That's not how it’s supposed to be.

 

"How about tomorrow morning then?" Wendy asks, lifting her free hand to stare at her polished nails of blue and white.

 

"Hm?"

 

"Take me out for free breakfast tomorrow."

 

It implies a lot of things, Wendy knows. For one, it means sleeping over, and she doesn't do sleepovers. Especially not with the clients she beds.

 

But considering she doesn't have any sex with Joohyun, Wendy figures it's okay; this would probably be the only way she'd ever sleep with the woman, anyway.

 

"Sure. As long as I don't wake up to another note."

 

Wendy snickers, recalling the quickly scribbled words she wrote with black ink.

 

_(You're lucky I didn't strip you naked while you were asleep. Those buttons were so annoying to wake up to in the morning, but at least you smelled nice. Thanks for the shirt, by the way. You better have been dreaming about me._

— _Your ‘Wan’ and only,_

_Seungwannie)_

 

"I don't even know where to start," Joohyun says, exasperated, like the small letter had given her a headache.

 

Wendy doesn't doubt it though, all things considered.

 

Regardless, Wendy's already choking on laughter, muffling giggles behind a hand that barely covers anything. The note was a culmination of feelings Wendy couldn't quite get a hold of; she had felt liberated, giddy, nervous, anxious, excited, and a whole lot of other jumbles of words that couldn't settle in her stomach or head to string sentences that made sense.

 

So she had merely put down what she knew, sketched them on a piece of small paper to at least have some sort of order in its chaos, and hoped it wouldn't be too scrambled for Joohyun to read.

 

"It was cute though, wasn't it?" Wendy starts, nudging her by the elbow.

 

Joohyun's rolling her eyes, scowling behind her cup, though she doesn't yank her arm back from Wendy's hold.

 

Wendy's well too aware that her fingers are still laced with Joohyun's.

 

"I better not wake up naked tomorrow morning."

 

Wendy laughs, lifting a leg so their feet could keep each other company, staring at the way Joohyun's simple black socks differ from her dark fishnet stockings.

 

"No promises."

 

She nuzzles into Joohyun's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut as Joohyun lifts to sip her tea again.

 

Wendy's growing to like this calm quiet, the comfort silence brings when paired with Joohyun's soft breathing. It's different from the quiet that comes from the other clients, like the air has changed and it's not suffocating. But it's not like Wendy isn't used to that; she's even accustomed enough to consider it normal.

 

If anything, her time with Joohyun is nothing normal.

 

No one pays an escort to not have sex.

 

"Why didn't you take the envelope that morning?"

 

Joohyun's whisper beats the question that almost slips Wendy's lips, the words pausing just behind her teeth, syllables curled tightly along her tongue.

 

The signature purple envelope is still a blazing picture in Wendy's mind, a warning red light that carries more than just the weight of her pay for the night.

 

Wendy kind of hates what it means.

 

"Why don't you have sex with me? It's not like you aren't paying for it. We have an hour to kill, and that's essentially my job.”

 

She spews out instead, dodges the topic about the purple envelope because it would mean diving into territory about personal feelings and Wendy's not interested in meshing emotions with work.

 

Besides, it's a genuine question.

 

Most people jump at the opportunity, especially with sex. At least, they'd try it – give it a whirl because they would already be paying for it anyway.

 

In retrospect, Joohyun should be too.

 

"Because I don't want to."

 

Wendy arches a brow, mock-hurt drowning her words, a pout lining her lips.

 

"So you don't want to have sex with me?"

 

She watches the way Joohyun crinkles her brows, how she frowns like she's considering the question.

 

Wendy waits for her to take the bait, but when the moment passes and Joohyun keeps silent, Wendy realizes she's much more smarter than she gives her credit for.

 

"Is it because I've slept with so many already?"

 

Wendy remembers this logic of reasoning from some of her earlier clients. They had asked her how long she had been an escort for and if she was relatively new, they'd allow the sex. But once she was more experienced and inevitably more 'dirtier' in their eyes, they had left.

 

She understands the perception of clean versus dirty, but just because she's slept with other people doesn't mean she's any lesser in value as a person.

 

The concept of virginity can go screw itself. She had asked plenty of doctors, both men and women, during her monthly checkups of the medical definition of virginity.

 

They said there isn't one and had only been made as a social construct for girls to be conveniently labeled as either pure or not.

 

"No, I'd rather just talk to you."

 

Wendy flutters her fingers through her own hair, watches the way Joohyun stares at her with those eyes, always attentive, like she'd always listen.

 

She can't bring herself to look at her for too long; she feels like she'll sink into them and never come back.

 

"Why can't you believe me when I say I'm not here for sex?"

 

Wendy smiles, all knowing.

 

"Because no one pays an escort to not have sex."

 

Joohyun frowns.

 

"I do."

 

"I know, and I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that."

 

Wendy grins, nudging Joohyun again.

 

They spend the rest of the night talking about the free breakfast they’ll be having tomorrow, with Joohyun insisting that Wendy wear the button-up she once again brought with her (the same red and black plaid as before) because there may be conservative elderlies and she doesn’t want them to suffer heart-attacks.

 

Wendy tries to argue that it might just be their time, considering their age, but Joohyun shushes her with a glare and a flick on the forehead.

 

She doesn’t miss her client’s quiet observation when her eyes roam the contours of her shoulders and collarbone.

 

“You don’t have bruises anymore.”

 

Wendy owes it to the fact that Joohyun pretty much replaced The Biter. Not that she was complaining, of course.

 

“You said to take better care of myself.”

 

“So you _do_ know how to follow instructions.” Joohyun quips, a coy smile gracing her lips at the obvious wordplay that it has Wendy jabbing her with an elbow to her ribs.

 

When it’s finally time for bed and Joohyun had leant her the shirt and – surprise surprise, a pair of sweats (Wendy’s impressed Joohyun had actually pulled through with the pants), they’re lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling, and Wendy's thinking about how she'll get herself to sleep in Joohyun's arms again.

 

"Were there cameras in the store?"

 

Wendy attempts to start another conversation, ease her way into getting closer to Joohyun, have an excuse to shut the distance.

 

Joohyun hums, her eyes shielded by an arm, exhaustion no doubt lining the edges of her lips.

 

"Yeah, my manager asked me what I was doing being too close to a customer."

 

Wendy feels guilt claw up her throat, shifting to her side to inch her way towards Joohyun.

 

Raising the blanket so it'd drape over them both, Wendy holds her, pressing her lips against Joohyun's shoulder so her words melt into the older woman's button-up.

 

It's scathing past her throat, the apology a rarity to slide through her mouth.

 

"Sorry about that."

 

Wendy feels Joohyun turn, before Joohyun's arm is slithering under her head, her cheek resting comfortably on its newfound, and warm, makeshift pillow.

 

Joohyun's readjusting the blanket so it'd cover up to their chins, their knees and ankles bumping lightly, making heat flare hotter on Wendy's skin.

 

And then Joohyun's returning her hold, pulling her close, curling warmth into Wendy's bones.

 

"I just told them that the customer was drunk and it couldn't be helped."

 

Wendy could practically hear the smile in Joohyun's voice, pinching her client's stomach out of light vengeance and snickering at Joohyun's yelp.

 

Snuggling back into Joohyun's heat, digging her nose deeper until it bumps collarbone, Wendy grins at the familiar scent she's learned to sleep to every night.

 

One thing Wendy is grateful for, as she listens to Joohyun breathe, her breaths coming out steady like a lullaby against her head as if sleeping together was utterly normal, is that Joohyun doesn’t ask that question again.

 

Wendy doesn’t want to see the purple envelope anymore.

 

“Aren’t you going to tell me a bedtime story?”

 

Wendy grins against her client’s collarbone, Joohyun’s small laugh tickling her scalp, the sound so soothingly soft, reflected in the dim light of the room’s lamp, a tender ambience.

 

She doesn’t think Joohyun actually would until her client speaks and Wendy’s eyelashes flutter to a close.

 

Wendy sleeps to another one of Joohyun’s science-tales.

 

“Once upon a time, in glycolysis…”

 

-

 

Wendy wakes up to another morning with vanilla and lavender.

 

When her eyes ease open, lashes grazing warm skin, her lips humming heat against Joohyun’s collarbone, Wendy comes up with a plan that’s better than stripping Joohyun naked.

 

Or at least, with something just as fun.

 

Grateful that Joohyun has shifted to sleep on her back sometime during the night, Wendy makes the most of it, carefully slithering her leg over the client’s hips, smothering a smile with a bite on her bottom lip.

 

She keeps her weight light above Joohyun, evening out the pressure by resting forearms against the mattress, knees pressing into the bed, locking Joohyun between them.

 

Wendy curls her hair back so auburn strands won’t tickle Joohyun awake, satisfied with merely watching her sleep, the way her lips are slightly parted, her forehead loose from crinkles.

 

Her fingers begin to trace the edges of Joohyun’s jaw, to the lines of her neck, hand resting on the first closed button of her top.

 

Wendy’s gaze falls to her lips, as if entranced, feeling a pull attempt to gather her in.

 

She wants to kiss her.

 

Joohyun’s brows begin to furrow, her expression scrunching, groaning awake. Wendy watches the way her eyes slowly open, how her lashes of butterfly wings flutter to lift curtains off pools of brown.

 

Her voice is cloaked with morning haze, a sleepy drawl spilling past her tongue.

 

“…Hi.”

 

Wendy grins, tapping a finger on Joohyun’s nose, like she wasn’t just about to kiss her.

 

“Hi.”

 

Joohyun brings a hand to rub at her eyes, fingers pressing into her eyelids, an attempt to rid away the fog of slumber, before she’s looking at her again (not without checking herself first, watching Joohyun’s gaze drop for a moment).

 

“Oh good. I didn’t wake up naked.” Wendy can’t help it, plucking the first button off in playful response, giggling at Joohyun’s rolling eyes. “For the most part.”

 

“I was planning to rock you awake, actually.”

 

Joohyun’s confusion is palpable on her face, the way her lips twist into a frown, her brows crinkling in wonder.

 

“’Rock’?”

 

Wendy feels fire attempt to burn off her ears at the thought of what she was about to do, but teasing Joohyun has always been her favorite as of late; it’s innocent enough, anyway.

 

Compared to everything else she does for her clients.

 

She leans back to settle her weight properly against Joohyun’s hips, grinning at the woman’s curiosity painting her expression.

 

Oh this’ll be _fun._

 

“Usually I’d have music play along too, but…” Wendy flits her fingers through her hair, flicking it over her shoulder, lets the slope of her neck draw Joohyun’s attention. “…I think your surprise will be music enough.”

 

“What?”

 

The question falls faint in the air, withering into nothing when Wendy hushes her with a finger to her own lips, the mute instruction hitting pause on Joohyun’s mouth, hearing her teeth click shut.

 

She really is a good listener.

 

“Watch me.”

 

Slowly, keeping her eyes trained on Joohyun’s, Wendy begins to move her hips, rocking in beat to a motion she’s done more times than she could count, pressing gently against Joohyun.

 

Wendy is already grinning at the wrinkles she makes on the bottom of Joohyun’s shirt, catching how it’s riding up, anticipating the skin that will inevitably peek for her to see.

 

Bringing her hands to her chest, Wendy gradually slips the buttons off, one by one.

 

But she doesn’t get to take the third one off.

 

She barely makes the bed squeak beneath them like she wanted to because the next thing she knows, Joohyun is shoving her away, the client bolting up from tangled sheets, the sounds of her tripping feet mixing in with Wendy’s chortling laughter.

 

“W-W-Wha – I, I can’t – that’s not, um, that’s…rock? Rocks stay _still!_ ”

 

Wendy can’t get up from the bed, her stomach hurting too much for her to bother following after Joohyun, hearing her client squeak out gibberish, her voice a few octaves higher than normal.

 

It turned out better than she thought.

 

“I-I can’t—hahaha, b-believe that, _oh man this is too funny,_ you would think about— _pffft,_ hahaha, an actual _rock!_ ”

 

Wendy suddenly feels very proud of herself, wiping tears off her face, her stomach and cheeks in pure pain.

 

It takes twenty minutes for Joohyun to finally calm down, her cheeks no longer flushed like she had dipped her face into a puddle of lava, an additional fifteen for Wendy to finally let the teasing drop (she couldn’t help but bring up the word ‘rock’ in every sentence she’d say), if only so they could finally get their breakfast downstairs.

 

Curling her arms to latch onto Joohyun as she pulled the door shut, Wendy’s never felt more eager to walk down the corridor of a hotel with a client as she was now, pressing her cheek to smother against Joohyun’s shoulder.

 

Wendy knew she’d be right; Joohyun’s stuttering tongue and choked syllables were definitely music to her ears.

 

-

 

The seventh Friday they are scheduled to meet, it’s not Joohyun she sees.

 

Wendy raises a skeptical brow, a frown already painting her lips when the door opens and the person standing isn’t Joohyun in one of her typically adorable button-ups, a giant standing in her place, with medium-length ebony hair the same shiny black hue as Joohyun’s.

 

But she isn’t _her._

 

“Where’s Joohyun?”

 

It’s the first thing Wendy asks, not bothering to hide the distaste on her tongue at the sight of someone unfamiliar. Did she knock on the wrong door? Suddenly she’s not sure.

 

Her eyes glance briefly to the number plastered – room 277.

 

“So _you’re_ the escort unnie’s been spending her Fridays with,” the giant says instead, her lips curled into a tilting smirk, her confidence oozing from the drips of each syllable. “And I thought Joohyun unnie was short. You’re tiny.”

 

One thing’s for sure, though.

 

She doesn’t like her.

 

Wendy doesn’t waste time adjusting to the new predicament, crossing her arms, curling back her hair to let her amethyst earring flutter against her skin, a habit she’s learned to give herself time to think.

 

So this woman knows Joohyun. It doesn’t explain the surprise switch, though.

 

“Where’s Joohyun?”

 

“Gee, aren’t you clingy.” The teasing lilt in her tone doesn’t escape Wendy’s ears, how her lips have twisted into a smirk – as if knowing. “That’s cute. I’m Joy.” Wendy bites back a scowl, watching the way this woman – Joy, combs back her hair, an elegant brow arching up. “Joohyun unnie’s busy so I’m taking her place for tonight.”

 

Wendy ignores the prickling tightness of disappointment in her chest, invisible chains gripping her heart and squeezing to remind her of her stupid attachment to Joohyun.

 

“I’m Wendy,” she starts, swallowing back questions like: ‘Busy with what?’ and ‘Will I see her next Friday?’ “So, what services are you looking for?”

 

Joy’s eyes light up like a child’s on Christmas morning, the sparkle of interest glowing along pools of brown, startling Wendy, stumbling forward when the new client tugs her in by the wrist.

 

Wendy barely slips off her heels before she’s plopping down on the bed, Joy eagerly sitting beside her, leaning in towards her like she’s anticipating more.

 

“I’ve been _so_ curious about your kind of job, actually. What’s it like? What do you really do? Are you rich now?”

 

Joy’s genuine curiosity has Wendy reeling in amusement, the way her questions spew out in rapid succession, her attention undivided. She figured her job would be a mystery for most, but not to this extent, Joy’s excitement practically gushing out like water from a broken fire hydrant.

 

Wendy realizes that for all this woman’s coy confidence, Joy was as naïve and ignorant as a child.

 

She kind of reminds her of Joohyun.

 

An idea clicks in her head.

 

“You know…” Wendy starts, leaning in, a Cheshire smile carving her lips. “…I’d rather just show you.” Her fingers crawl up Joy’s sleeve of cotton and polyester; a simple black turtleneck. “Give you a taste of what an escort’s about. Then maybe you can convince Joohyunnie that she’s been missing out.”

 

The nickname rolls off her tongue on the spot, a childish affection she couldn’t help but let slip, as if it’d combat this giant’s obvious close relationship with Joohyun. How close were they, exactly?

 

Joy snorts, like she _knows._

 

“Joohyun unnie’s as uptight as a twisted twizzler. She’s always been more of a ‘make love, not sex’ type, so I’m not surprised.”

 

It’s the first time she’s heard of Joohyun’s view on sex; the client never once offered her opinion on the matter. In fact, Joohyun had been great at keeping her mouth locked shut whenever she’d bring it up.

 

Maybe it was so she wouldn’t burn her with words and spill toxin to corrode their fragile, questionable, relationship. Were they even friends?

 

“So I guess she doesn’t think very highly of me.”

 

Wendy says more than asks, a wry smile already painting her face, not entirely surprised, before Joy’s quip keeps her mouth to a still, her eyes widening in fractions.

 

She catches Joy’s wink.

 

“All I know is, if she ever has sex with you, it would be because she loves you.”

 

Wendy wishes the fire wouldn’t scorch her cheeks when red heat slithers up her neck, but when Joy’s choking from laughter, holding her stomach, Wendy knows it’s already too late, the tips of her ears feeling as hot as the skin on her face.

 

She attempts to drop a bucket of ice on her burning torch of feelings, scowling to break the sliver of a hopeful smile timidly crawling along her lips.

 

Wendy scoffs to chuck the air of heat off her tongue, crossing her arms, turning away from Joy’s suggestive brows. They’re _wiggling._

 

“It better be. The amount of effort I’ve been putting into seducing her can’t be for _nothing._ ”

 

Joy’s chuckling and Wendy hates it.

 

It’s almost like the giant could read her as easy as the lines of an open book with words typed in bold capital letters.

 

“What’s with all the effort anyway? I heard from unnie you like taking off her buttons.”

 

“Because it’s fun.”

 

“Don’t you ever think it would annoy her?”

 

“Not really.” Wendy pauses, pursing her lips. “…Should I stop?”

 

It’s a momentary lapse of doubt that barely holds control over her thoughts at most times, but this one is different; Wendy doesn’t want Joohyun to go away. Especially not if she can help it.

 

Joy elbows her arm, a grin lining her syllables.

 

“She hasn’t switched from button-ups to turtlenecks even when she knows what you’ll do with it. What do _you_ think?”

 

Wendy watches the way Joy smiles at her, bright and gleaming, with pearly white teeth and happy eyes – the image of playful peace making its permanent mark in her memory, remembering how she had drawn up a poor picture of Joy the first few minutes she had known her.

 

Scratch that.

 

She’s sure she likes Joy already.

 

“Hyunnie’s been telling you all about me, hasn’t she?”

 

Nicknames are just rolling off her tongue tonight. Maybe because it’s easier when the owner of the name isn’t present to hear the affection in her voice, tattooed in like a glowing heart sign.

 

How embarrassing.

 

Wendy joins in on Joy’s giggling spree, the giant nodding her head before she’s leaning in again, as if to whisper a secret into her ear.

 

“And that you sleep like a baby with her bedtime stories, too.”

 

She should be getting used to the red lighting up her face by now, slapping Joy’s arm out of embarrassment, the flush a familiar hue on her cheeks.

 

They spend the hour (and an additional thirty-five minutes) talking about the Saturday morning she had spent eating breakfast with Joohyun, earning a mini lecture from Joy for not making Joohyun wake up naked – that it was such a wasted opportunity (though she _did_ congratulate her for the ‘rock’).

 

Wendy leaves with the signature purple envelope (still scented in familiar vanilla and lavender) between her fingers, Joy’s waving hand and her chirpy “Goodbye,” the last things she sees and hears before the door shuts with a click.

 

Juggling the weight of the envelope in her palm, Wendy remembers how easy it had been to accept her payment from Joy, even when it’s still Joohyun’s money.

 

She hadn’t batted an eyelash when it fell between her fingers, only reacting when Joy informed her that she would see Joohyun again next week, an instinctive excited smile having graced Wendy’s lips.

 

It was like she fell back in routine, accepting payment because it was still a job, for this one Friday night.

 

With clacking steps heading for home, Wendy pretends that Joohyun isn’t already worth more than the money she’s always known to love first and foremost.

 

-

 

The eighth Friday they meet, Joohyun looks like she's about to trip on her own two feet.

 

She's wobbling towards the bed, her legs undoubtedly weak, dragging her weight until she plops down onto the mattress, molding into it like she was sinking into sponge.

 

Wendy spots the kettle untouched; it would usually have tea brewed already.

 

She tries not to let concern paint her voice.

 

"…Joohyun? Are you okay?"

 

It doesn’t really work out when her tongue feels like it’s twisted into nerves, words hesitantly peeking between her teeth.

 

Joohyun wheezes out like it’s tiring for her to breathe, voice weak, hoarse even, like there's something clogging her nose.

 

"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine."

 

Wendy almost rolls her eyes at the typical response, dumping her heels by the door, hastily making it to the side of the bed.

 

She settles next to Joohyun and places her hand on her forehead before her client could complain.

 

Wendy frowns, reprimand spilling between her lips.

 

"You're burning up and you're spending time here instead of resting at home?"

 

Joohyun attempts to push her hand away, grasping her wrist, but her strength is lacking.

 

"...Because I…should be here,"

 

Wendy clicks her tongue.

 

"You can see me again next Friday, you know."

 

Joohyun is shaking her head, like it wasn’t an option – like it couldn’t even be considered because it wasn’t even a choice.

 

"No..." She puffs out, eyes fluttering open and close, like she can't keep them awake. "...I can't miss one."

 

Wendy doesn't understand what she means; they could reschedule as easy as counting one to three. They don't even do anything anyway; they just talk. Joohyun wouldn't really be missing anything.

 

"Aren't you stubborn," Wendy quips, brushing her hair back to see better, hands cradling to feel Joohyun's pink cheeks to the edges of her jaw. “Joy could’ve come in instead.”

 

Joohyun manages to scoff.

 

“…She told you to make me wake up naked next time.” Wendy giggles at the reminder, amusement lining her lips at the client’s rolling eyes. “I’d rather not let her give you any more ideas.”

 

Wendy watches Joohyun flutter her eyelids shut for a moment, like she needs to let them rest. Her fingers cling to the skin on Joohyun’s face, holding tenderly.

 

She's really warm – and she’s sweating.

 

Wendy pretends she doesn’t feel worry prickling at her chest.

 

Tapping on Joohyun’s nose to make sure she’s watching her, Wendy combs stray strands of ebony from her client’s face, spotting how Joohyun’s eyes strain to stay open, exhaustion written like it was embedded into its sockets.

 

"You're going to lie here and rest because I'm going to take care of you, got it?"

 

Wendy chides gently, a growing smile curling her lips at Joohyun's little nod, listing off a set of ideas with the counts of each tap on Joohyun’s warm forehead.

 

She knows she’s gotten soft – and way too quickly, even.

 

But even when Wendy knows, she can’t help but treat Joohyun like she’s that important. It’s frustrating.

 

"Listen. You're going to get better so you can make me tea again, so that I can hear your boring but cute bedtime stories, and we can finally have that sex we've been talking about for _ages._ "

 

Joohyun's weak laugh is adorable that it gets Wendy cracking up a bit too, leaving her finger to linger on soft moist skin, drawing tiny massage circles above Joohyun’s eyebrow.

 

"…You mean what _you've_ been talking about..."

 

Wendy waves a dismissive hand.

 

"Same thing."

 

Worry rises fast, shifting closer when Joohyun coughs, her breathing ragged, her body shivering – like she’s got winter engraved into her bones.

 

"How did you even let yourself get this bad? Have you been overworking yourself? Or did someone sneeze on you?" When Joohyun doesn't respond, Wendy knows it's a reluctant yes – for something. "Whatever it is, the point is, _you_ were the one telling me to take better care of myself."

 

She steps back to make strides for the bathroom, wetting a small cloth, before walking back to rest the towel against Joohyun’s forehead, helping her to lie comfortably on a pillow and tucking the blanket up to her chin.

 

Wendy doesn't hesitate to grip her purse, motioning to leave even when Joohyun's reaching a hand out, as if to hold her.

 

"W-Where are you going...?"

 

Her client's eyes are struggling to be wide enough to see, like they're robed with a sleep spell that attempts to keep Joohyun from being awake.

 

Wendy smiles at her client's fingers clutching at air for her wrist. It makes Wendy want to stay, cuddle her close, and cling to her tight.

 

But not until later.

 

"I won't take long,"

 

She’s linking their fingers together and squeezing Joohyun's hand, reassuring her client so the lines of a frown no longer draw on the edges of Joohyun's lips.

 

Wendy takes the spare room key (for some reason, Wendy feels like this is why Joohyun always gets an extra one – for things like this), and leaves, her heels clacking steps down the corridor, her mind already set for the drug store a few blocks from the building.

 

-

 

When the lock clicks open, Wendy comes back to a sleeping Joohyun.

 

She drops her heels quietly by the door, feet padding silently on carpet floor, making muffled steps towards the side of the bed.

 

Wendy is careful to pluck the medicine bottle out of the bag, glancing once in awhile to make sure Joohyun's still fast asleep.

 

For now, it seems to just be a fever – Wendy’s had her fair share of clients insisting that they can still follow through with their schedule, that they’re ‘fine’, but Wendy’s not interested in pleasuring the sick; they should be getting better first.

 

But just in case, she bought a bottle for coughs, runny nose, and headaches. Joohyun might have caught the flu, if a fever wasn’t the only thing waiting for her.

 

Wendy rinses the cloth before settling it back on Joohyun’s forehead, hoping the temperature will lower enough to be gone by tomorrow morning.

 

She’s not sure when she’s gone from an escort to a nanny for a client. And the worst part is, she’s not even complaining.

 

But she should be. She’s not getting paid to play babysitter and treat the sick; it’s not exhilarating, it’s not engaging, and it’s not fun.

 

It’s also certainly not _sex._

 

But sitting next to a sleeping Joohyun, combing back her hair, drying away the sweat that draw specks on her skin, Wendy’s never felt more exhilarated, never felt this more engaged, and never felt this much fun—

 

—Without the sex.

 

Wendy knows what that means. She’s already figured it out as soon as she didn’t want to see the purple envelope anymore.

 

Spotting a plastic bag peeking out of Joohyun’s satchel, Wendy plucks it out carefully, finding the familiar black and red plaid button-up she has worn for the past two times she’s slept with Joohyun (and rejected to bring home with her even when Joohyun had insisted she keep it too).

 

Wendy is shaking her head even when she’s slipping the shirt on, making sure to seal each circle up to hide away the red bra she’s wearing for tonight.

 

She even finds another pair of sweatpants the client had undoubtedly brought for her.

 

To think that Joohyun’s sick and still prepared; Wendy wonders why she cares.

 

“…I’m glad you’re wearing them.”

 

Wendy spins around to see a weak smile on Joohyun’s face, her eyes half-lidded, but the red flush on her skin has grown faint.

 

“You were watching me change?” She can’t help but tease, even when embarrassment attempts to color her pink, lips cracking into a grin at Joohyun’s small laugh. “How was my underwear?”

 

“Very red. Like your bra.” Joohyun’s eyes are twinkling with mirth, even when they’re still struggling to stay open. “…And maybe your face too if you keep blushing like that.”

 

Wendy pouts, before she retorts, a grin lining her lips.

 

“’Rock.’”

 

Joohyun’s face flares up brighter than the fever ever did, her cheeks going back to red, a color as deep as the rose hue of her lingerie.

 

“…You’re horrible.”

 

Wendy giggles before she’s settling in next to her, ignoring Joohyun’s startled look, pulling the blanket up to hide them in, their chins tickling the soft fabric.

 

Vanilla and lavender wafts through her senses.

 

“H-Hey, I’m sick…”

 

Wendy is nodding.

 

“I know,”

 

“But you might get sick too…”

 

Wendy snuggles against Joohyun, humming into her shoulder, her body warm.

 

“I know,”

 

“Then—“

 

“But I want to sleep with you.” She mumbles against her shirt, attempting to hide away how timid she’s suddenly become. “I’m not going to sleep on a chair when there’s a bed. And besides,” Wendy smiles, feeling cheeky. “You didn’t cancel our appointment so technically if I _do_ get sick, it’d be your fault.”

 

Joohyun’s mouth stays shut, though Wendy doesn’t miss the sound of her groan, evidently resigned.

 

Wendy lets silence reign over, knowing that now’s not the time to make Joohyun stay up late when she should be resting instead. Her eyes flutter shut, allowing slumber to fog over her mind until Joohyun speaks.

 

“…Why didn’t you take the envelope again?”

 

She knows that Joohyun is referring to their breakfast that Saturday morning. The older woman had offered her payment, even insisted that she take it – that it was only proper, but Wendy couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

 

So she made up a lame excuse on the spot, told Joohyun that she didn’t need it, and called a taxi before Joohyun could shove the money into her hands.

 

Wendy’s curling tighter into her; she’s not sure if she should be honest. What if she scares Joohyun away? Show her that she’s taking advantage of Joohyun’s precious time by doing absolutely _nothing_ for her?

 

When she tries to lie instead, feels the tiny smooth encapsulated poison flutter along her tongue, makeshift words waiting to be said, Wendy can’t bring herself to do it.

 

But it had always been so easy – her pretty sentences with clients were nothing more than purple prose.

 

What was one more lie?

 

“Because it feels like I’m playing house with you instead of working.” Wendy’s drawing invisible circles on Joohyun’s stomach, the notion automatic. “And I’m supposed to be getting paid to do my job, not living out a dream I only ever fantasize about in my sleep.”

 

She’s spouting words, hoping a lie spills her lips but none of it does, except for the truth she’s kept close to her heart.

 

Joohyun is shifting, as if to look at her face and Wendy only holds her tighter so she can’t; she doesn’t want Joohyun to see the tears well up in her eyes, biting back a sob.

 

Geez, she can’t believe she’s about to _cry._

“…Seungwan,”

 

Wendy grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes even tighter, swallowing as much of her diary words as she can before Joohyun could read her more; her feelings are suddenly on paper.

 

“So no, I won’t let you pay me for making me feel like I’m finally home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the M rated didn’t get to make it this chapter because it felt out of place, but it will be here soon. I’ll let you all know with a warning beforehand. And don't worry your heads too much over wondering why Joohyun's doing what she's doing; you will find out eventually.


	3. Stairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as Wendy hates feeling emotions, Joohyun gives her bouquets of them.

As much as Wendy hates feeling emotions, Joohyun gives her bouquets of them.

 

They're normally not pretty to feel. In fact, she'd consider them ugly, gross, icky – a hassle and something not worth keeping, but Joohyun makes her appreciate them; like they were as beautiful as a bundle of flowers (as much as they were a cliché present, they were cliché for a reason).

 

Wendy would've considered them disgusting (like she did for the past few times she had met Joohyun) if it weren't for the fact that, as much as she’d like to deny it, she loves how Joohyun makes her feel.

 

And it's not even five in the morning, yet.

 

Her eyes are blurred with sleep clouds, but even when she can't see anything, Wendy knows whose arms are holding her, whose warmth blankets her, and whose heart she's listening to – a steady rhythm of beats that keep a particularly adorable client breathing.

 

Wendy doesn't want to let go.

 

So she doesn't.

 

Snuggling deeper into an embrace that makes fur coats pale in comparison to the heat it gives, Wendy nuzzles into vanilla and lavender, making sure her legs remain entwined with Joohyun's beneath the sheets; lets them stay tangled like lost strings attached together.

 

_(“So no, I won't let you pay me for making me feel like I'm finally home.”)_

 

Wendy hadn't meant to pour her feelings out – hadn't meant to play her heart out loud for Joohyun to hear. The words were supposed to be lies, just like any other time her mouth had opened for listening ears.

 

But as soon as her lips opened, nothing mattered more than telling Joohyun the truth.

 

Wendy's learned to live by words she doesn't mean.

 

When her clients tell her they love her, she returns it with equal pretend affection: “I love you too,” holding them tighter, letting them believe in a fantasy they paid for.

 

When they tell her they miss her or want her, she spews out lies that come so easy that sometimes, Wendy thinks it's all she's capable of doing now.

 

She even lies when home checks up on her – even if they were audio recordings two years old.

 

Her older sister, a sweetheart, would always greet her with that signature chirp; like the sun bled bright over her voice, warm and light and loving.

 

Her parents aren't any different; they have these blue-sky tones in their words, calming and reassuring and pillars of support.

 

When they ask her how she's doing, if she loves her job and the experiences she gets to explore in a whole other city without home, Wendy feeds them lies. Even when they’ll never hear them.

 

It's easier to tell them she's doing great, fantastic even, play out a bunch of scenarios that would never happen: “Haven't you seen the amount of money I send your way?”

 

Wendy's used to sprinkling pretty words, pepper prose and convince she's well-off without sounding like her life's too good to be true. And thankfully, they fall for it – at least, Wendy thinks they would.

 

She can't tell them that she misses them, that she wants to be with them, but she tries.

 

Wendy would always hit the replay button to listen to their voice messages again, memorize her family's loving warmth that manages to carry through, even if she can't touch them.

 

It's been awhile since she's felt home; recordings on a cellphone could only do so much – but they were better than nothing.

 

Even if Wendy has to hear the same greetings, the same questions, and the same goodbyes, over and over again.

 

_(“I love you, take care of yourself, and make sure you come back home, okay?”)_

 

Wendy always struggled to form the simple word on her lips, her mouth always quivering like it couldn't dare to let it slip.

 

But it's a ritual Wendy wouldn't ever stop doing, traditionally mumbling before bed, “Okay,” and hiding the pain away under blankets that couldn’t stave off the cold – until she had Joohyun's button-up.

 

Money's never disappointed her; it provides her a place to stay, clothes to wear, and food to eat; just as much as it helps others pay for happiness – for comfort, for company, for pleasure – in terms of her services.

 

Sometimes, Wendy wishes she could pay for time to rewind and never leave home.

 

She supposes she should be accustomed to it by now; two years have gone by and it doesn't hurt as much to think about it anymore. That was something.

 

Besides, Wendy thinks then, cuddling against the warmth of Joohyun's shirt (it’s way too early to stay awake), she's found a nice distraction to keep herself occupied for a little bit.

 

Joohyun's got a touch of that blue-sky support and sun-kissed warmth; Wendy wants to enjoy it while it lasts.

 

When Joohyun's gone (because no client stays forever), at least she'll still have her family's voice messages to come home to.

 

And Joohyun’s button-up.

 

-

 

When Wendy wakes up again to Joohyun on another Saturday morning, she's trying to come up with something fun to do again.

 

Her eyes glance at the clock on the nightstand: 8:45 AM.

 

Rocking Joohyun had been hilarious, to say the least, but Wendy admits she likes to spice things up a bit; have some variety to add excitement to her weekends.

 

She recalls that one night she had spent with Joohyun's friend Joy; how the giant had practically bulldozed her over the wasted opportunity of a naked Joohyun.

 

_(“It's practically harmless! At most, she'll wake up feeling a little chilly and be forced to snuggle up for heat. Wouldn't that be cute to see?”_

_“Well, you're definitely not wrong about that...”_

_“Trust me, I'm never wrong. And besides, I'm sure you'd love to cuddle up with her too, right? So I say you both should just ditch the button-ups and go naked.”)_

 

Wendy can't forget the grin on Joy's face. If she hadn't known any better, Wendy would’ve considered her devil's incarnate.

 

To think Joy was Joohyun's friend; Wendy wonders how they met in the first place – and be willing to stick around, no less.

 

Joohyun seems too conservative for Joy's mischievous promiscuity.

 

But then again, how did Joohyun even find out about her? And why? If anything, Joohyun would likely rather spend time studying on Fridays than be paying for an escort service.

 

Shifting carefully, Wendy brings a hand up to feel for Joohyun's forehead. Her temperature's not as high as it had been last night; in fact, it feels rather normal, though Wendy keeps in mind that Joohyun may still be relatively sick; better safe than sorry.

 

Her hand carefully brushes back a strand that had fallen over Joohyun's brow, feather-light touch so as to not wake her.

 

“How did you even hear of me...?”

 

Wendy makes sure her whisper doesn't thread into Joohyun's ears, mumbling to herself of a thought that has plagued her ever since she first met the woman.

 

She's never asked Joohyun of course; it seemed like something one would consider a sort of secret – almost like it would be a breach of contract if they were to discuss it at all.

 

Wendy's aware that word spreads amongst men regarding her services; they always have friends who want a little fun on the side – nothing she's not already known about of course.

 

It certainly helps that she had started off with an escort agency to build her foundation, make a name for herself, form steady relationships and connections, before branching off to do services on her own. As much as Wendy loved the benefits of being secured protection and fixed schedules of clients, her income wouldn't have gotten any higher.

 

Soloing as an escort meant no limitations; she could charge however high she wants, schedule whenever she wants, and choose who to see – albeit, with higher risk of danger but only if she isn’t careful.

 

Everything she's picked up regarding safety measures and signs of danger, Wendy makes sure to always keep note of.

 

But with Joohyun, she's never had to be careful – never had to consider her own safety, and that was the scary part.

 

Snuggling her cheek gently into Joohyun's warm arm, Wendy finds calm in watching Joohyun sleep.

 

Her eyes instinctively flutter to the curves of Joohyun's mouth, spotting the slight parting of her lips, her breath flitting softly between them.

 

Wendy wants to kiss her.

 

Inching closer, making sure their legs are still sewn together like stitches, Wendy shifts carefully along the length of Joohyun's arm, a makeshift pillow Wendy's learned to sleep comfortably to (she doesn't remember when Joohyun had slid it under her, but it must've been as instinctive as it was for Wendy to cuddle closer).

 

Moving until all that's left is the minute gap between their lips, Wendy leans up, faint vanilla wafting through her nose, filling her heart in.

 

Maybe this time, she could kiss Joohyun awake.

 

“...Are you going to 'rock' me again? Or strip me naked?”

 

Wendy freezes just as Joohyun's lips flutter against hers, a fleeting touch that barely eases the growing want festering in her chest.

 

She stares at Joohyun's bleary blinking, the older woman wiping off sleep haze with every flitting curtain of lashes, her signature small smile curling the corner of her lips.

 

Joohyun should seriously stop looking so good. Wendy doesn't know how she does it.

 

“Is that an invitation?” Wendy lets the teasing paint her own mouth, Cheshire smile growing as her finger walks along the slope of Joohyun's arm. “Because I'd be more than happy to rock you awake and have you naked. At the _same_ time.”

 

Joohyun's laugh has this hint of morning delight, lazy even, how her chuckles leave her throat slightly dry, hoarse from slumber.

 

It's the sort of music Wendy never hears – like a dash of magic and that bit of fairytale illusion.

 

But Joohyun's real.

 

“Of course you would,”

 

“Or...” Wendy hums, carefully sliding closer so her hands slither under Joohyun’s arms to clutch at her back. “...I could just kiss you instead.”

 

Joohyun hums, her gaze surprisingly steady. Wendy thought they'd be playing hide-and-seek.

 

Her client blinks, her thumb rubbing lazy circles along Wendy’s hip that it’s making havoc happen in her stomach. What she’s doing is delightfully _sinful._

 

“You could,”

 

Was that consent? Wendy can't tell – Joohyun should be getting flustered, be adamant about personal space or come up with the usual excuse of just wanting to talk. But she isn’t.

 

Wendy can't hold Joohyun's eyes anymore.

 

She glances down, distracts herself with the crease that meets Joohyun's collar, fiddling with the smooth material instead. Wendy’s finding it hard not to shudder at Joohyun’s massaging touch, her skin undoubtedly burning in pictures of circles. Does Joohyun even know what she’s doing?

 

“But I won't,” Wendy's never backed out of a dare this fast, annoyed at the new change. “Because morning breath. And because you’re sick.”

 

Wendy's grateful for Joohyun's seamless transition from awkward territory to typical light banter.

 

“So I guess I'm stuck with you trying to get me naked?”

 

She grins at Joohyun's playful frown.

 

“And getting rocked,” Wendy giggles gently, pretending Joohyun’s not drawing zig-zags on her hip now. “Both of which, mind you, are very popular choices – especially amongst my clients.”

 

“Keyword is 'trying'. I'm a light sleeper so you'd never get past the first button.”

 

She wants to snort at that; if anything, Joohyun was more of a heavy sleeper with giant curtains over her eyes that seem to be glued shut until the last crucial moment.

 

Wendy grins instead, dancing fingers over the lines of Joohyun's shirt, feeling the circles run under her skin.

 

“Like how I got to see a bit of your bra when you were awake?” Wendy smiles at Joohyun's growing pout, trying not to coo. “You seem to be better off sleeping since your clothes tend to stay on that way.”

 

“Are you saying I'll be safer asleep?”

 

Wendy laughs, drawing circles on Joohyun's stomach, creasing lines on her button-up.

 

“I don't make promises I can't keep.” She fiddles with a button, a coy smile painting her lips. “But I can give you options; how about we play our game?”

 

“But your shirt is closed already,” Joohyun says, looking confused.

 

_(“Let’s play a game. For every button you close on mine, I’ll unbutton one of yours.”)_

 

Wendy is quick to latch onto her own borrowed shirt, practiced fingers already twitching to undo each clasp.

 

She fiddles with the first button, winking playfully.

 

“Then I'll just have to take them off for you, won't I?”

 

Before Joohyun gets to utter even a breath of a syllable, Wendy's already dragging her fingers down the column of circles, the familiar touch of buttons comforting. It’s something her clients all have in common – and something Wendy knows what to do with.

 

Wendy's already feeling the soft cool breeze of air sweep over the curves of her chest, her red bra peeking through, that she only needs a few more buttons left before the red and black plaid is no longer a shield to her skin.

 

Joohyun's grip is firm around her wrist.

 

“You just can't seem to keep your clothes on, can you?” She breathes, like she's breathless at the mere sight and Wendy would love to think it’s true.

 

Wendy rubs her cheek against Joohyun's pillow arm, the warmth melting into her skin, grinning coyly.

 

“Can't you already tell that I haven't been trying to when I'm with you?”

 

She's laughing at Joohyun's disgruntled groan, not missing the gradual red flush painting the client's ears.

 

Joohyun's shaking her head, a weak smile on her lips.

 

“On the bright side,” the older woman starts, before she's climbing a hand along Wendy's shirt. “I trust myself not to take advantage of you, so I guess it's fine.” She's sealing the buttons back in place. “But cover up when you go out at least. It's only going to get colder now.”

 

Wendy's feeling affection boil in her stomach again, that annoying bundle of chaotic butterflies bouncing around like they're all on some drug high.

 

Joohyun's too caring. It's weird.

 

“You wouldn’t actually be taking advantage of me when you’re paying for my company, you know. And besides,”

 

Wendy has to moisten her own lips, feeling them dry up when Joohyun's gaze flits back to her.

 

They're just like any typical pair of brown eyes.

 

But they’re Joohyun's.

 

Wendy's suddenly feeling meek under curious scrutiny, bowing her gaze to Joohyun's collar, keeping her eyes on a tiny speck of lint; anything to not sink into pools of deep brown.

 

“Why do you care? Don't you think you're taking this 'Girlfriend Experience' a little too seriously?”

 

She can hear Joohyun’s frown.

 

“You make it sound like I shouldn't care.”

 

“So you feel like you should?”

 

“I just do.”

 

Wendy snaps her head back up, brows furrowing at Joohyun’s nonchalance.

 

“Why?”

 

Joohyun has this tilting curve on her lips, a small curl quirked up at the corners.

 

“I didn't know we were playing twenty questions.”

 

Wendy’s hand attempts to slither back to the buttons on her borrowed plaid shirt, teasing.

 

“We _could_ play our game instead, then...”

 

Wendy smiles at Joohyun's instinctive hold to curl a little tighter around her wrist, keeping Wendy from attempting to undress herself. Again.

 

“How about we just go eat breakfast?”

 

Wendy's all too aware of a dodging tongue, but she keeps her silence, preferring to observe and take note of Joohyun.

 

-

 

The Biter was the last person she ever thought she’d see, eating breakfast by himself, four tables from their right.

 

Wendy’s completely forgotten that he tends to book appointments at this hotel, too.

 

He’s got a clean goatee, sharp to accentuate his hard features, hair slightly mussed, strands of short black curling over his forehead to the top of his brows. His formal white dress shirt is crisp for the most part, the top two buttons unclasped, though his collar needs to be readjusted.

 

His disheveled attire likely means he had spent the night with someone; Wendy wouldn't be surprised if it was with a different escort.

 

She still has his replies to her emails in her inbox, recalling how desperate he had been for her, like he craved to touch her again, his responses practically bleeding with need.

 

But she had been firm with canceling their Friday night appointments; there was no way Wendy would skip out on spending her final shift of the week with Joohyun.

 

The woman was undoubtedly better company.

 

It’s a little jarring though, now that she could compare, to see how Joohyun’s wearing a similar white button-up, too.

 

They’re both just as pale, their hair just as shiny, colored with deep onyx.

 

Wendy would’ve mistaken them for siblings, though the two clearly showed no signs of knowing one another. Joohyun’s gaze had swept past him like nothing when they were looking for a table.

 

Wendy doesn’t mean to catch his eyes when he looks up from his newspaper.

 

She swears under her breath when she sees him stare from her peripheral, his scrutiny drilling into the side of her head, Wendy feeling a little frantic and frustrated that he is likely about to interrupt her peaceful breakfast with a clueless Joohyun.

 

Wendy thinks fast.

 

“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?”

 

She leans over to swipe a napkin on the bit of jam that had stuck itself on the corner of Joohyun’s mouth, smiling at the client’s widening eyes, surprise falling out of her lips.

 

“Oh, um. Okay?”

 

Wendy’s shifting to stand, her chair screeching beneath her, pilfering a knife when Joohyun’s too busy munching on her bread to notice, wrapping the utensil in the napkin she had used. _Better safe than sorry,_ the agency always said.

 

She’s glad The Biter had been too preoccupied in folding his newspaper to catch it, too.

 

“Don’t take too long or the food will get cold.” Joohyun says after swallowing.

 

The words shower easy.

 

“I won’t. I’ll just throw this out first,” Wendy raises the bundled tissue, stained with the strawberry jam that had tainted Joohyun’s lips. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

Joohyun’s chomping on a piece of pancake, nodding along to Wendy’s excuse.

 

“I'll be waiting.”

 

Spotting his figure slowly head towards their table, Wendy’s twisting around, stalking off for the elevator, hearing his footsteps follow her own. She knows his eyes have never left her since he’s seen her; he’s one of the few who adores telling her they love her, after all.

 

Wendy hits the same number, twenty-one, as a woman who smiles weakly from the other side of the compartment.

 

The stranger looks timid, but she'll have to do; as long as she can play witness to their inevitable exchange.

 

She's not surprised when The Biter pauses to stand beside her in the elevator, the doors sliding shut, the glowing numbers counting slowly.

 

_Two,_

 

“Wendy? I haven’t seen you in awhile,” he’s not wasting any time, patting her shoulder, bending down so his eyes meet hers better. “I’ve missed you. Who’s been keeping you company for the last few Fridays?”

 

Wendy plays her practiced smile, faux ignorance as she curls a hand behind her back, fingers firmly wrapped around the jam-stained napkin.

 

_Four,_

 

Wendy lets her free hand lace a strand of auburn behind her ear, finding comfort in the fleeting feel of her amethyst earring dangling gently.

 

“Sorry, but you know I can't tell you that.” Wendy sends a playful wink. “All of your secrets are safe with me.” She pokes at his chest, lets fingers linger ghost marks down to his stomach. “...And that includes identity.”

 

It's not a surprise when he steps closer, curls an arm around her waist, his breath of coffee tracing lines into her lungs.

 

“...I really missed you,”

 

_Seven,_

 

Of course he’d beat that excuse down into thin paper; she's heard this plenty of times before.

 

Wendy sees the way he's leaning in, his lips inching towards hers and thinks – this is just like any other time with a client; it's nothing new, so why can't she do it? Lean up and kiss him too? _Better to slip away unnoticed than dealing with confrontation,_ the agency always said.

 

_Ten,_

 

But all she can think about is going back quickly so she could eat breakfast with Joohyun again.

 

“You should brush your teeth.”

 

Wendy smiles, coy, swiftly avoiding his lips to let them kiss her cheek instead.

 

He's laughing, pulling back, though his arm remains snuggled on her side, nudging her closer.

 

Wendy makes sure the napkin is out of his reach.

 

_Thirteen,_

 

“You've always been a stickler like that,” The Biter says lightly, his words caressing the edges of her ear. “I love it when you play hard to get.”

 

Wendy tries not to wince at his teeth biting down on her earlobe, his poor excuse of seduction, as if it would make her aroused.

 

Most men, she’s learned, seem to think she'd get turned on by their macho voices and poor attempts at nibbling.

 

_Sixteen,_

 

“And you're always biting too hard,” Wendy quips, pushing him off gently, trying not to flinch at teeth scraping skin. “That's not how you make me wet.”

 

He's kissing words against her ear again, the pulsing flesh feeling sensitive under his lips.

 

_Eighteen,_

 

“Then let me make it up to you,” his fingers clutch deeper into her skin, the fabric of Joohyun's button-up pressing against her a reminder that she has someone waiting for her. “I'll make up for all those Fridays I didn't get to spend with you.”

 

Wendy's not interested, though even when she attempts to wrench his hold off her, he's tugging her closer.

 

She knows he won't do anything though, especially not when a witness is just on the other side of the elevator. Wendy could see her squirm, clearly uncomfortable with their conversation.

 

“I'll pay you for every Friday I didn't have you for one hour of your time.” Wendy can feel how needy he is, his mouth already wandering along the crook of her neck. “Just come with me to my room. I want you.”

 

How tempting. Getting paid the equivalent of a couple of Fridays for one hour on a Saturday morning?

 

It wouldn't get any better than this.

 

_Twenty,_

 

But Joohyun is already better than money.

 

“Sorry, but I'd like to not work on my day offs.”

 

Wendy should've known he'd be persistent.

 

“Come on, I'm even—”

 

_Twenty-one,_

 

As soon as the doors open and the woman steps off to leave, The Biter is pushing the button for twenty-nine.

 

Wendy attempts to leave with her, but he's curling her close, yanking her back, making haste to pepper her nape with sloppy kisses. His fingers are already clawing under her borrowed shirt, grimy hand dusting her stomach, attempting to reach her chest.

 

Wendy hisses at his tight hold when she pushes forward, his other arm busy trying to keep her still, locking her around her hips, making her press back against him.

 

“Just one hour,” he breathes, his teeth scraping her neck.

 

Back then, Wendy wouldn’t have resisted; in fact, they’d probably be half naked by now, especially if the sum being offered was as large as this. How times have changed.

 

Wendy feels for the cloth in her hand, fingers automatically twisting to uncurl it.

 

She's about to unclasp the napkin for the knife when a hand shoots between the elevator's closing doors, forcing them open. That signature white button-up and familiar long ebony come into view.

 

Joohyun.

 

“There you are!”

 

Wendy's finding it hard to hide her surprise when Joohyun's curling a hand around her wrist, tugging her back.

 

Joohyun has this bright grin on her face.

 

“I've been looking all over for you. The manager wants to see you,” the woman's arm is slithering along her waist, a replacement for his. “And no, you're not in trouble. She's a good friend of mine so don't worry.”

 

Wendy's voice is stuck on pause, attempting to keep track of what exactly was happening, being pulled forward, finally stepping out of the elevator – and out of his arms.

 

She can feel his fingers clutch at the back of her shirt, but Joohyun is quicker.

 

Her voice is firm when she addresses him.

 

“Sorry, but I'm going to have to take her from here okay?”

 

And then Joohyun is looking at her, with that small smile Wendy's seen so often but can't quite stop the pink that always paint her cheeks after.

 

Joohyun's leaning in, whispering words into her sensitive ear, her lips a healing touch compared to his probing mouth.

 

“I got tired of waiting.”

 

Wendy swears Joohyun couldn't get any more attractive but here she is, making her melt with just her voice – and soft, _very soft,_ lips.

 

They leave together, the sound of The Biter's disappointed grunt the last thing Wendy hears before the elevator doors click shut.

 

But it's only when they're finally alone, the adrenaline easing off Wendy's limbs and mind, does she hear Joohyun's heavy breathing.

 

It's almost like she had ran a marathon.

 

Wendy's turning Joohyun's head to look at her, her hand cold against the client's warm face; Wendy could even feel sweat thread into her skin.

 

Now that she could see better, Joohyun's cheeks are even flushed.

 

“H-Hey, are you okay?”

 

Joohyun's huffing a laugh, her panting now visibly noticeable, how her chest rises and falls, attempting to catch her breath. She’s combing fingers through her hair, settling stray strands.

 

The woman is patting Wendy's hand, reassurance spilling from luscious lips.

 

“Yeah just – you know, catching my breath because, I – um, never ran up so many stairs before in my life.”

 

Joohyun's chuckling again, taking Wendy by surprise, the older woman falling to rest her chin on Wendy's shoulder, her arms wrapping around Wendy to steady herself.

 

She pretends hearing Joohyun breathe so hard near her ear isn't turning her on.

 

_Oh god._

 

“I'm just—” Joohyun puffs out, coughing. “— Going to rest for a bit, okay..?”

 

Wendy latches onto Joohyun's shirt, curling fists because she needs at least some sort of anchor to not let her hands roam anywhere else – to have them stay still so Wendy can't touch her more than she's allowed to.

 

Words are suddenly scathing and thick past her throat, filling up with want.

 

Wendy muffles her voice against Joohyun's shoulder, hoping it'll help hide the desire on her tongue.

 

“...I hate that you're breathing so hard into my ear right now.”

 

To think that Joohyun had ran up the stairs from the main lobby to catch her on floor twenty-one.

 

The mere thought of Joohyun putting the effort just to look for her – Wendy hates how Joohyun's already at the top of her favorites list and only continues to leave everyone else behind.

 

“...Why?” Joohyun asks, before another cough plagues her throat.

 

Joohyun's breathing has gotten softer, slower. It has her squirming under the breezing warmth, though her bouts of coughs has Wendy a little worried.

 

“Because it's even hotter than I imagined it'd be and it's frustrating to know you're the only client who won't have sex with me.”

 

Joohyun, typically, laughs at her, and Wendy hates how it only makes her hold Joohyun tighter; she's just so warm and adorable and huggable – like a plushy.

 

Joohyun's patting her back, her voice cooing, like she was placating a child.

 

“If you want, I could just run up and down another flight of stairs. Just not today, I'm tired.”

 

Wendy is chuckling, clutching just a little bit tighter because Joohyun’s making her feel things again – a stupid bouquet of feelings.

 

“To think you'd rather go up and down a set of stairs over going up and down in bed with me,” she quips, pinching Joohyun’s back, giggling at her yelp. “I'm kind of offended.”

 

Her client's laughter tickles her ear one last time before Joohyun pulls back, straightening up, her breathing having steadied. Wendy already misses hearing her breathless.

 

Joohyun merely smiles at her, letting silence be her response, much to Wendy's chagrin. It was a kind rejection at best.

 

_Ding._

 

When the elevator pulls up, a small crowd of people leaving the lift, Joohyun ushers her into it, pressing twenty-seven, no doubt going back to their room.

 

“I didn't want to take the stairs again.”

 

Wendy quips back quickly, mock-hurt spilling her lips.

 

“Yet you'd still choose it over me,”

 

Joohyun only gives her another smile, leaning back against a small railing.

 

“Yup.”

 

Wendy mirrors her, glancing at the way Joohyun taps her finger against the metal bar, the client's eyes busy watching the numbers count up.

 

“I didn't learn to be an expert in bed just to be chosen over a flight of stairs, you know.”

 

Joohyun’s chuckling makes smiling that much more easier to curl along Wendy’s lips.

 

She recalls Joohyun busting in just before the elevator doors could completely close, his hands having been wound around her. It was nothing new, though. Wendy’s gone through worse.

 

Though she’s surprised Joohyun isn’t asking about it. There was no way she didn’t catch how intimate he held her.

 

_Twenty-two,_

 

“I don't need your protection.”

 

Wendy starts, bringing a hand up to scrutinize her nails, feeling Joohyun's gaze sweep to her cheek.

 

As much as the gesture was appreciated, Wendy could more than handle herself. She wants to make that especially clear.

 

Joohyun's calm, as if unsurprised of her spontaneous edge.

 

“I know,”

 

Wendy blows at lint on her polished fingertips.

 

“Then why did you do it?”

 

“Because I got tired of waiting,” Wendy remembers that excuse, how Joohyun had seamlessly whispered them into her ear as she guided Wendy out of his arms. “And because I had a chance to prevent a knife from being used on a person, so...”

 

Her eyes swivel back to meet Joohyun's, attempt to hide the surprise on her lips. So Joohyun knew he was following her – and that she was prepared for danger.

 

_(“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?”_

_“Oh, um. Okay? Don’t take too long or the food will get cold.”)_

 

Wendy fiddles with the soft edges of the jam-stained napkin by her side, the sheathed weapon snuggled deep for safekeeping. Joohyun’s a lot more observant than she gave her credit for.

 

_Twenty-four,_

 

Joohyun's sighing, though she sounds more relieved than anything else, nudging Wendy gently by the elbow.

 

“I'm glad you were prepared, of course.” Wendy looks back up at a reassuring smile, Joohyun's hand slithering to cradle hers, where the napkin is trapped in her grip. “Because I didn't expect to run up that many stairs.”

 

Joohyun’s been explaining her reasons to her, but it still doesn't make any sense.

 

Sure, Wendy's had people go out of their way to impress her, buy her gifts that she'd never imagine (some were crazy enough to get her a house – which she denied of course), attempt to worm their way into her heart, but not like this.

 

Joohyun's never given her anything, really, except for: a cup of tea, a bedtime story, clothes to hide her skin, a breakfast that comes with a hotel reservation, and a whole lot of feelings that won't stop overloading her chest.

 

Wendy can't read her.

 

“...I feel like I'm Catwoman trying to decipher the Bat,”

 

“...What?”

 

Wendy's not surprised that Joohyun doesn't get the reference, but she likes it – loves it, even. Joohyun’s ignorance is part of her charm.

 

She laces their fingers together so they're holding hands when Joohyun attempts to confiscate her napkin, grinning up at rolling eyes, giggling at Joohyun's scoff.

 

“How long have you been living under a rock?” Wendy asks, curling their fingers tighter together, comfort swelling her stomach at the feel of Joohyun returning her grip.

 

As expected, Joohyun's going pink in her cheeks, looking as adorably flustered as the time Wendy had her pinned beneath her on the bed on a beautiful Saturday morning, rocking her.

 

Wendy wonders when she'll be able to do that again. It was fun. Maybe next Saturday.

 

_Twenty-six,_

 

Joohyun is coughing.

 

“A-As far as I know, I've been living under a roof.”

 

Wendy can't help but laugh, holding her stomach, stumbling to clutch a free hand to grip Joohyun's shoulder to steady herself.

 

She's acutely aware of Joohyun’s hands warming her hips, helping her stay balanced on her feet. Wendy pretends she doesn't feel like she's back at prom dancing to a slow song (elevator music wasn't necessarily the most romantic), though her current partner is much more easier on the eyes than the boy in twelfth grade, with buttons just _waiting_ to be torn off.

 

She should get her phone out – have some music play on her sex playlist so it could help them both get into the mood. Perhaps then, she could finally get Joohyun’s buttons to come loose completely.

 

But maybe she should stop appreciating the color brown in Joohyun’s eyes, first.

 

_Twenty-seven,_

 

“Are you going to let me go anytime soon, or are we just going to stand here looking at each other like we're in love?”

 

Wendy grins at Joohyun's hands jolting off her, hiding behind her back, shoulders tensed up like she had been caught stealing a bag of candy (when really, Wendy was inclined to say she had stolen her indifference and replaced it with something achingly warm in her heart instead).

 

“Sorry, um...”

 

Joohyun starts, making Wendy smile at the sound of meek lips, urging her client to go on, latching onto Joohyun's elbow, dragging her out of the elevator.

 

“Yes?”

 

Wendy almost coos at Joohyun's nervous tongue, curling tighter against her client's side.

 

“...Would you like to eat over at my place? Since our breakfast got cut short earlier...”

 

How odd.

 

Wendy didn't think Joohyun would bother inviting her out for more than a sleepover and a Saturday morning breakfast.

 

What's even worse is that she's heard this before too; how clients would invite her for breakfast, lunch, dinner – even offer her triple the amount she'd ask for in exchange of spending an entire night with them.

 

She wouldn't hesitate rejecting, but here she currently was, not bothering to think twice because it was the weekend – and because it was Joohyun.

 

Wendy holds onto Joohyun tighter, well aware of her client not bothering to shove her away.

 

“I would love that.”

 

-

 

When they arrive, Wendy's slightly surprised at the mess of Joohyun's little quaint apartment.

 

The older woman didn't look the type to live in disarray of scattered papers and sprawled open textbooks. But then again, Joohyun's still in college. It must be exam month.

 

Yet her client still has the time – and money, for her?

 

“Oh hey, Joohyun unnie, it's about time you came ba—”

 

Wendy's not prepared to see Joy in Joohyun's home.

 

The giant had been scrolling through her tablet when she walked by, hair messily tied to a bun, with a short – _too short,_ green shorts and a tight – _too tight,_ white tank top adorning her figure.

 

Mirrored surprise had colored Joy's wide eyes before her lips turned into that signature smirk Wendy's gotten accustomed to seeing on her; even if they had met for one night.

 

Wendy won't deny that Joy carries luscious beauty, her figure marked with curves on all the right places, her skin fair (though not as pale as Joohyun) and firm, her height just one of the many pluses to her already striking appearance.

 

Just what kind of relationship did Joy and Joohyun have?

 

“I see you brought her home with you?” Wendy could practically hear the Cheshire smile in Joy's lips, amusement pouring out like a bucket spilled. “Should I take my leave so you two can get down and dirty—”

 

“Sooyoung, you're always talking nonsense.”

 

Wendy's having trouble keeping a giggle hidden beneath her throat, attempting to muffle her laughter behind a hand at Joohyun's hasty retort.

 

She spots Joy raising her arms out of surrender, though her voice spills mock-hurt.

 

“Please, unnie. I just exaggerate the facts.” Joy's sending Wendy a wink – what a sly girl. “But they're still facts.”

 

Wendy doesn't have to see Joohyun roll her eyes, how her voice leaves her lips, exasperated.

 

“Then you're misinformed,”

 

Joohyun is ushering her to the kitchen with a gentle hand against the small of Wendy's back, mouthing an offer of tea.

 

Wendy nods, appreciative. She'll keep quiet for a little bit, if only to watch their dynamics.

 

Were they romantically involved? But Joy wouldn't have encouraged her to do things with Joohyun, and Joohyun wouldn't need to pay for an escort every Friday night if she had a perfectly good lady waiting at home.

 

“I invited her over because our breakfast got interrupted.”

 

Joy’s grinning from ear-to-ear, her tongue spilling implications that Wendy’s surprised she hasn’t run out of them yet. To think she’s younger than Joohyun; Wendy wonders how _not_ clean Joy’s search history is on that tablet.

 

“By what? Someone walking in on your little make out session you call ‘breakfast’?”

 

“Your tongue, Sooyoung, needs some washing.”

 

Wendy jumps a little at Joy’s touch around her waist, surprised at the giant’s brazen shift in proximity, even when Joohyun’s still leading her to a chair in the kitchen.

 

“I’m sure Wendy here, would be more than happy to help me out with that, won’t she?”

 

Joohyun slapping Joy’s hand away has Wendy laughing more than she thought she would, curling easily into Joohyun’s side as Joy teeters back, catching the giant’s second wink.

 

“Behave yourself while I go make breakfast.”

 

“Might as well call it lunch, unnie.”

 

“Then both.”

 

Wendy snickers at their banter, easing herself into a chair, Joy settling beside her. Joohyun’s stalking off towards the fridge, combing her hair back with steady fingers and even if Wendy’s seen it done plenty of times already, the action still has her staring.

 

She jolts at a prodding poke to her ribs.

 

“So did you finally manage to get her naked this morning?”

 

Joy’s wiggling her eyebrows again; Wendy actually missed seeing them – they were cute, though she wouldn’t be telling the girl that anytime soon.

 

Wendy shakes her head, curling auburn behind her ear, the amethyst earring a comforting touch under her fingertips.

 

“Nope. She woke up before I could even ki—” _kiss her,_ Wendy almost says, catching herself at Joy’s arching brow. “—before I could even grab a button,”

 

“Right,” Joy drawls, a sudden spark in her eyes that Wendy hates how she recognizes it to be another idea boiling in that not-so-innocent head of hers.

 

Wendy huffs, attempting to keep the pink rising up her neck to a minimum. Joohyun’s here too – she can’t have herself an embarrassed puddle of blush when her client (and her obnoxiously giant friend?) are both present.

 

They both have a knack for teasing her, and as much as Wendy has a quick tongue herself, she can’t have them gang up on her – that would be double the trouble.

 

“Aren’t you hot?” Joy starts, muttering quietly so Joohyun can’t hear, grasping gently on the borrowed button-up Wendy’s still wearing. “We like keeping the apartment pretty warm so you can take some clothes off, if you know what I mean.”

 

Wendy scrutinizes the smirk on Joy’s face, before taking note of the giant flitting her gaze to Joohyun who’s still gathering up the ingredients, nodding in her direction.

 

It only solidifies her theory that they aren’t romantic partners, which gives Wendy more relief than she’d admit.

 

“Is it bad that I like how you think?” Wendy whispers, nudging Joy playfully before standing, careful not to let the chair screech so Joohyun wouldn’t know exactly what they were up to.

 

With Joohyun’s back still facing them, Wendy shimmies quickly out of the sweats her client had leant her, passing it over to Joy’s eager hands, before quickly undoing the buttons on her shirt.

 

Just when the button-up slips past her shoulders, dangling at her elbows, Joy’s yanking her in, whispering into her ear.

 

“Keep that on, but keep it open, it makes you look hotter. Go wait for unnie in her room – it’s the first door on your left. I’ll get her to visit you so you won’t have to wait long.”

 

Wendy’s impressed with Joy’s planning, though she’s more intrigued of what actually fuels her to tease Joohyun this much.

 

“Just one question. Why?”

 

Joy practically blinds her, pearly white teeth gleaming against her eyes – almost like she was staring at an ad for Colgate.

 

“Because I’m bored and you’re here and I get to hear unnie potentially freak out. I’m vibrating in excitement just thinking about it.”

 

Wendy laughs quietly before nodding, shuffling carefully and twisting the knob, looking back briefly to catch Joohyun busily chopping carrots. Joy’s shooing her with a waving hand and Wendy almost rolls her eyes at the giant’s lack of patience.

 

Perfect excuse to find out a little bit more about Joohyun.

 

Scanning quickly, her eyes catch a relatively neat bedroom; stacks of notebooks piled on a black work desk, her vanity mirror littered with post-it notes of terms Wendy recognizes to be part of the bedtime stories Joohyun would tell.

 

She settles comfortably on the center of a made bed, impressed at the amount of purple it has: all differing in shades from the dark violet of her pillows to the pastel hue of her blankets.

 

The scent of lavender is particularly strong too, but soothing.

 

Wendy lies down so she could sink deeper into the mattress, letting the open button-up pool along her sides so her pair of red bra and lace underwear have nowhere to hide.

 

She’s already grinning at the thought of Joohyun opening the door to a waiting surprise. Joy’s a lot more devious than she thought she’d be.

 

Her eyes roam lazily along the closet of burnished wood, clothes hanging haphazardly along the rim, before catching what looks to be stethoscope.

 

Wendy’s only ever seen those at the monthly checkups she takes to ensure she’s been having safe sex; that none of the men she’s serviced transferred anything detrimental to her health. Not that she hasn’t been making sure herself during each hour she has with a client, but it has always been better to check, just in case.

 

Joohyun’s aspiring to be a doctor? It would explain the long white coat hanging just beside it.

 

Wendy snaps at attention at the sound of a turning knob, getting in position, a sly smile already gracing her lips. She hadn’t managed to gather much, but this’ll do, for now.

 

It’s show time.

 

Joohyun’s voice gets clearer the more her door opens.

 

“Sooyoung, will you stop smiling like that? It’s getting a bit creepy—”

 

As soon as Joohyun’s eyes finally land on her own, Wendy makes due with her client’s sudden pause by the door, Joohyun’s lips frozen midsentence, her steps nailed to the floor, body going rigid.

 

Joohyun’s gone stiff again. How cute.

 

Wendy licks her lips.

 

“Hi,” she says, coy, tilting her head ever so slightly, letting strands of auburn curl along her neck.

 

She doesn’t miss the way Joohyun’s gaze follows along.

 

“…Like what you see?” Wendy muses on, taking note of Joohyun’s instinctive swallow, amused, and very, very, _very,_ satisfied with her client’s reaction to her so far.

 

Wendy wants to explore a little further.

 

Knowing full well she’s got Joohyun locked under a muted spell, Wendy snatches whatever brief seconds she has left. She’s learned that the most crucial moment to exploit is a surprise still being registered in her client’s head.

 

Slowly, Wendy lets her hand slither from the lines of her collarbone, to the slopes on her chest. The visual is powerful, but just as effective were the other five senses. For now, she only has sound and sight at her disposal. Wendy isn’t shy to put in a little purr, her throat thrumming low, inwardly ecstatic at Joohyun’s instinctive shudder.

 

Fingertips carefully plucking the middle band of her red bra like a string to a guitar, Wendy’s hand gradually begins to chart the skin on her stomach, letting her legs slide slowly against each other, taking note of Joohyun’s eyes trailing along.

 

It’s only when the tips of Wendy’s fingers caress over the strings of her underwear, dancing along the edges does the moment end, with Joohyun stumbling forward, stuttering lips as frantic as her waving hands.

 

“W-Wait, stop—!” Joohyun squeaks, face looking to be ducked in lava again, practically throwing herself to grab at Wendy’s wrist, pinning it on the mattress. “P-Please don’t go touching yourself,”

 

Wendy’s slightly winded at the sudden motion, though she’s more than satisfied of having Joohyun keep her stuck against the bed, warmth filling her cheeks at Joohyun’s hand still gripping her.

 

“Oh? But what if I need to scratch an itch? Will you do it for me then?”

 

Wendy giggles at Joohyun’s sighing, watching her client lean back to comb a hand through her hair, Joohyun’s grip loosening to free her.

 

She won’t admit that she’s already missing the heat along her wrist.

 

“You can touch yourself, just—” Joohyun pauses, curling her lips, her expression scrunching up like she’s suddenly realized exactly what she was talking about. “Just not when I’m watching.”

 

Wendy repositions herself so she’s lying on her side, an arm secured beneath to act as her pillow, just so she could look at Joohyun more, the older woman settled comfortably on the side of the bed.

 

She lets her fingers walk up the slope of Joohyun’s back.

 

“So you were watching?”

 

Wendy knows what Joohyun means. But it doesn’t stop her from teasing her more.

 

“I-I mean looking!” Joohyun’s eyes widen before she’s stammering again. “Just – when I’m _present!_ ” Her client mutters on, scratching at her neck. “…This should be illegal…”

 

Wendy’s already guffawing before Joohyun could even huff an annoyed sigh, holding onto her stomach and curling into herself. Joohyun’s rolling her eyes again, though she doesn’t interrupt Wendy’s sudden fit of laughter, letting her go until there’s nothing left but heaving breaths.

 

Once Wendy’s finally done wiping the tears off her eyelids, she’s smirking up at Joohyun, curling auburn behind her ear, a brow arching up playfully.

 

“Does that mean you’ll be arresting me, _officer?_ ” Wendy asks, poking at Joohyun’s side, grinning at her yelp. “I _have_ been a little naughty…”

 

Joohyun’s groaning, a hand rubbing her eyelids, watching her client shake her head, light reprimand spilling her lips.

 

“Your mouth is as dirty as Sooyoung’s,”

 

“Kiss me clean, then.”

 

Wendy expects Joohyun’s scoff, but not the client’s hand pinching her bare thigh, a squeak escaping Wendy’s throat as fast as the chuckles that leave Joohyun’s mouth.

 

“This is why I gave you pants to wear, Seungwan.”

 

Joohyun’s smirking and Wendy barely has any time to feel shy when her client pulls Wendy’s open shirt to a close, hiding away both Wendy’s bra and underwear from sight, the hem of the borrowed button-up covering up to the middle of Wendy’s thighs.

 

“So you won’t be tempted to touch me like you are now?” Wendy quips back as soon as she’s regained most of her composure, though her ears are still warm.

 

Joohyun’s laughing but it only makes Wendy feel hotter, watching the way her client yanks the shirt to cover Wendy’s bare shoulder, patting it down gently.

 

“Yes.”

 

Wendy wonders if feeling flustered will be part of the norm whenever Joohyun’s around her, but she doesn’t get to think much of it when she sees the woman attempt to stand, like their conversation is already over.

 

She doesn’t want it to be.

 

Thinking fast, Wendy wraps her legs around Joohyun’s waist just before the older woman is about to be out of reach, yanking her back down.

 

She giggles at Joohyun’s disgruntled yelp, watching her stumble backwards to be seated on the bed again, the client staring down at her tummy before whipping her head over her shoulder.

 

Wendy winks at her, blowing a playful air kiss Joohyun’s way.

 

“Welcome back,”

 

Joohyun’s snort makes Wendy all the more driven to pull her closer, so she does, curling tighter so Joohyun remains trapped, Wendy’s hands finding their place on Joohyun’s shoulders, urging her to turn around.

 

“Are you looking for a piggy-back ride?” Joohyun asks, but Wendy shakes her head, a muted smile painting her lips.

 

When Joohyun finally spins completely, Wendy leans back into the mattress, pulling Joohyun down with her. The client is oddly compliant, but Wendy won’t think too much on it when she feels Joohyun’s hands sink into the bed on either side of her head.

 

Perfect.

 

With Joohyun literally trapped between her legs (she trusts their strength to be enough to keep the client from running away), Wendy can finally get some answers – and a little bit of some bedroom fantasy.

 

“How can you afford me?” Joohyun’s blinking at her, confusion lining the client’s expression but Wendy only prods further, sliding a playful finger along Joohyun’s bottom lip. “Looking at all the notebooks in your living room, and the fact that you’re juggling three part-time jobs – if I remember right, while still studying for school, I find it hard that you have time for me.”

 

As much as Wendy loves Joohyun’s company, she’s got a curiosity itching to be scratched. She knows that Joohyun can’t afford her all the time – especially not when there are things to pay for like tuition fees, basic necessities, and rent.

 

“I save up,” Joohyun says after a moment, “I’m not much of a spender. And besides,” Wendy pouts at Joohyun’s finger poking her forehead. “It’s not like you’ve been taking the envelope lately, either.”

 

Wendy blushes at the reminder. She can’t argue with that.

 

“Then what about time? Shouldn’t you be studying instead of booking Friday nights with me?”

 

“Haven’t you realized? I _have_ been studying,” Joohyun laughs, her client's hands readjusting their hold on the mattress. “They’ve been your bedtime stories.”

 

Oh. Right.

 

“How did you find out about me?”

 

Joohyun’s humming, as if looking for the right words, before knocking their foreheads together gently, like it was obvious; it takes every bone in Wendy’s body not to squeal at the adorable gesture.

 

“You’re a popular topic during my graveyard shifts,”

 

Wendy pretends the flush isn’t rising up her cheeks. Maybe she’s getting sick because Joohyun’s sick and they’re too close to each other’s faces and – _god,_ she should just kiss her.

 

“People talk about me?”

 

“They never quiet down about how good you are,” Joohyun mumbles quietly, before she’s leaning back to blow a stray strand of ebony out of her face. “One even gave me your email address as an exchange to stop scolding them for not lowering their voices.”

 

“And you took it?”

 

Joohyun’s smiling again.

 

“Yes.” She pauses, laughing to herself. “But I still tell them to quiet down when they get too loud.”

 

It sounds plausible, all things considered. Wendy knows people could get her email address off the website she’s made just for her services; one of the many tools the agency had taught all their escorts to do.

 

But was that really all to it? Wendy can’t bring herself to believe it.

 

“Can I go make food now? I’m starving.”

 

Wendy almost coos at Joohyun’s soft whine, but first, she’ll take full advantage of this opportunity. It’s not often she has Joohyun stuck between her legs, anyway. She’ll tuck her doubts away for the moment.

 

“Not yet.” Wendy smirks at Joohyun’s narrowing eyes.

 

Before Joohyun gets to slip away, already moving back to get up, Wendy’s latching on tighter, her shirt dangling behind her, laughing at the way Joohyun’s stumbling back onto the bed to steady the extra weight.

 

Joohyun's blowing a strand of ebony from her face again, rolling her eyes, groaning as if the spontaneous intimacy was nothing new to her (Wendy admits that it probably wasn't at this point).

 

“...What are you planning to do _now?_ ”

 

Wendy laughs at Joohyun's deadpan voice, how her client is frowning at her, curiosity swirling in her eyes.

 

Her legs only tighten around Joohyun, snaking her arms properly around Joohyun's neck.

 

“I'm going to show you exactly what's going to happen when we have sex.”

 

“And how are you going to do that?”

 

Joohyun asks, the confusion palpable in her syllables that it gets Wendy giggling at the innocent stare Joohyun's giving her.

 

She taps Joohyun's nose with her own, muttering playfully.

 

“First, carry me.”

 

“Didn’t we already try that? I nearly dropped you.”

 

“But you weren’t prepared then,” Wendy retorts, not apologetic at all even when Joohyun groans. “Now you are. And don’t you want to eat?”

 

Wendy grins at Joohyun's sort-of mute obedience, hearing the client mutter complaints beneath her breath, before feeling Joohyun’s arm slide around her back.

 

Making sure to hold on tight, Wendy smiles at Joohyun's careful rise from the bed, slow, so they both won't fall; the older woman's hands protectively securing her closer.

 

She wants to see if Joohyun’s stronger than she looks; she blames all the novels she’s read about undercover agents and hired hitmen; as far-fetched as it sounds, maybe there are parallels here?

 

Wendy’s well too aware that her only apparels of a bra and underwear are pressing intimately against Joohyun, though it’s too bad she can’t tell if Joohyun’s cheeks colored in pink are due to _that_ or if it was the struggle of keeping them both upright.

 

“L-Like this?”

 

Joohyun huffs, readjusting her hold, clearly attempting to keep the both of them from falling.

 

Wendy hums lightly against Joohyun's shoulder, smiling words into the soft material.

 

“Yup. Now take me to the kitchen.”

 

She can hear Joohyun's brain practically whir away with questions from the older woman's confused grunt, before she's twisting around and they're heading out of the room.

 

Wendy was expecting Joy to catch them on the way too, but the giant was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was disappointed that Joohyun hadn’t screamed like Joy expected her to?

 

“Can’t you _walk?_ ”

 

Wendy laughs at Joohyun's whine, obviously struggling, feeling the way Joohyun's arms tremor to hold her up, her legs undoubtedly suffering the same jitters.

 

Maybe she’s been watching too many detective movies; Joohyun can’t hold her for much longer.

 

She coos into Joohyun's ear, kissing words against soft flesh.

 

“You make me feel fat,”

 

Joohyun's scoffing, a little breathless.

 

“Well, you're certainly _not_ light to carry.”

 

Wendy giggles at the playful jab, knowing full well that it wasn't a lie. Considering they were both relatively short, it was no surprise that Joohyun would be struggling to carry her weight, especially when they both seemed to weigh roughly the same.

 

Guess she’ll have to scratch off undercover cop and hired assassin from her imaginary checklist.

 

Wendy urges her to place her on the dining table; she's had her fun being carried around for a bit anyway. Joy was supposed to catch them in the act too, because she was pretty much the reason behind all this, but maybe next time.

 

Joohyun's protest comes quick like a snapping whip.

 

“That's dirty.”

 

Wendy plays mock-hurt through her voice, pulling back just enough to watch Joohyun's pout line her lips.

 

“Are you saying I'm dirty?”

 

Joohyun's hasty to make amends, panting.

 

“N-No, just that it's really unhygienic...” Wendy grins at Joohyun's hide-and-seek eyes. “The table's where we eat after all.”

 

Wendy knows this is the perfect opportunity to slide in a dirty joke, but Joy's voice is ringing through the air that it makes Joohyun drop her on the table regardless, surprise evident from the way Joohyun jolts between her legs.

 

Too cute.

 

Joy is practically pouring out with amusement, her obnoxious whistling screeching into Wendy’s ears.

 

“Wow Joohyun unnie, I didn't think you'd be having Wendy for breakfast.” Wendy stifles a laugh behind shaking lips – she can certainly count on Joy for dirty jokes. “I guess you gave up on cooking then? I was looking forward to eating it too…”

 

“I-I'm not—”

 

Wendy cuts in before Joohyun could sputter any more words, laying herself comfortably across the table, blinking up at Joy.

 

“Hyunnie said she wanted to show me exactly what would happen when we finally have sex.”

 

She could _hear_ the gears in Joohyun’s brain whiz away at the blatant lie.

 

Joy grins wider.

 

“Geez Joohyun unnie, at least keep it in the bedroom. You don’t always have to eat at the table, you know.”

 

Wendy is chortling to Joy's roaring cackles, vaguely hearing Joohyun's broken syllables before the oldest woman is groaning, a hand covering her face.

 

She could feel Joohyun's embarrassment seethe between her fingers.

 

“You're both horrible,”

 

Wendy sits back up, cooing at her flustered client, though at the back of her mind, Wendy’s still a little wary of the happy atmosphere that flits between them.

 

Joohyun’s answers had been rational, and that was the problem.

 

It sounded like it had been thoroughly planned, like the older woman had been prepared for questions. But maybe Joohyun just wanted to be ready for them? That there was nothing more to it?

 

The truth usually spills as easily as a soundproof lie, but then again, meek honesty could sound just as suspicious as an unprepared script.

 

“Aren’t you going to let go of me now?” Wendy blinks at Joohyun’s shifty eyes, the soft, albeit flustered, smile gracing the client’s lips; her cheeks are still flushed. “And I’ve given you a shirt for a _reason._ Don’t tell me you threw out the pants.” Joohyun’s scolding, her fingers coming up to close the buttons back on again.

 

It makes Wendy color a similar shade of pink on her own cheeks, suddenly timid at Joohyun’s undivided scrutiny. She can feel her hands itching to hide her chest; she’s gone meek for how small her bust size is (not that she’s ever been insecure about it, but Joohyun just makes her feel all over the place), acutely aware of Joohyun’s fingers slowly going up the column of circles.

 

“I gave it to Joy,”

 

Geez, why was she even worrying though when Joohyun wasn’t even the type to look? If anything, all Joohyun could see were probably the lack of sealed buttons.

 

She takes note of Joohyun huffing, her breaths slightly heavy, tickling her own, a sound all too memorable for Wendy not to recognize. Maybe she should’ve taken it a little easier on the older woman; she’s likely still sick.

 

“Sounds like you won’t be needing the stairs anymore, Joohyun.” Wendy says, leaning in so her words write along Joohyun’s chin. “…I told you I can leave you just as breathless, didn’t I?”

 

Joohyun’s scowling, though her face still has this hue of pink.

 

Maybe she shouldn’t even think about it so much anymore; about why Joohyun pays for her services – or lack thereof. After all, her clients all have their own reasons for purchasing her time; Joohyun isn’t any different.

 

Sure, she’s a little too mysterious and yeah, she’s a bit too good to be true, but maybe that’s really all to it. It’s not enough for Wendy, currently, but eventually, it will be.

 

And that’s okay.

 

Wendy uncurls her arms around her, legs unwinding their hold, but not without forgetting to tap Joohyun gently on the nose with a teasing finger, smiling at her client’s blinking eyes.

 

“I’ll cook with you.”

 

-

 

When breakfast – or lunch, as Joy had been picky with the time frame, is over and they’ve cleaned the dishes together (it was fun to just talk with the two by the sink, Wendy’s hands having been busy with drying the plates that Joy would pass to her, while Joohyun scrubbed and washed the stains off), Wendy thinks she’s overstayed her welcome.

 

It wasn’t like they were kicking her out or anything, in fact, Wendy’s sure they were lobbing the idea of offering her to stay for the night whenever her back was turned.

 

They weren’t very good at whispering.

 

_(“Do you think she’ll say yes? Aren’t we practically strangers to her?”_

_“Uh. Duh, unnie. You’re easy on the eyes, and I’m even_ more _easier on the eyes. Who in their right mind would say no?”)_

 

Wendy still has to keep herself from laughing at the memory; it was adorable seeing them whisper like they were sharing their utmost secrets. Wendy had tried hard not to give anything away, having kept silent a few steps behind them, especially not when she loved listening to them mutter not-so-quietly on the couch.

 

Did they actually think she’d take _that_ long to use their bathroom?

 

But as much as Wendy appreciated the thought, she didn’t want to intrude.

 

They were making her feel at home and Wendy wasn’t sure she could handle it for much longer. Spending the night with Joohyun once a week – and a little extra on Saturdays, were already more than enough.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? Or even sleepover?” Joy asks her from the couch, munching on a bag of chips. “I’m sure Joohyun unnie wouldn’t mind sharing the bed with you, considering you two always do on Friday nights, anyway.”

 

Joohyun's coughing out air, bumping a stack of textbooks beside her, surprise evident from jittery fingers attempting to stop a crumbling tower.

 

Wendy's about to reject the offer as planned, tell them she’s already called a cab, but Joy's faster.

 

“Or if you want, you can totally stay in my room instead. I wouldn't mind having a lady waiting for me in bed.”

 

The teasing lilt in Joy's tone is dripping between her teeth, her grin wide.

 

“Not a chance.” Joohyun cuts sharply, stacking her textbooks back properly on their carpet floor; the older woman did say she needed to study. “She'd be staying with me.”

 

Joy’s sticking her tongue out even when Joohyun’s not looking, and Wendy thinks they’re cute. She’s been using the word a lot lately, but the term seems to be synonymous to anything Joohyun or Joy related. They’re childish in their own mischievous way, even when they don’t look it.

 

Wendy loves being with them, and it’s scary.

 

She has to go.

 

Slipping on her fur coat, having already returned Joohyun’s button-up and sweatpants earlier, Wendy hurries to put on her heels, purse tucked tightly in her hand.

 

The cab will be here any minute, now.

 

“Thanks for the fun you two, but I better get going.”

 

Wendy hears Joohyun mutter “Wait,” before she’s scrambling up and back into her bedroom. As much as Wendy doesn’t want to, her feet stills by the door, teeth clenching at the seconds that tick by at a clock above their little TV.

 

It’s already eight in the evening.

 

“I’ll drop you off. Where do you live?” Joohyun starts, stepping out as quickly as she had disappeared, a green coat already covering her figure.

 

Car keys jingled between her fingers, her brown bag perched over her shoulder, the purple envelope peeking out of a pocket.

 

“I called a taxi already,”

 

“But they’re not here yet,” Joohyun’s smiling. “I am.”

 

Charming.

 

Wendy’s pursing her lips, wracking her brain for an excuse to not accept a ride from her client. Wendy’s not sure she’s ready to spend several minutes on the road alone with Joohyun.

 

Joohyun’s all she thinks about when she gets home, anyway.

 

She doesn’t need the extra alone time to possibly fess up – it’s been getting a little harder to keep her mouth shut, lately.

 

Wendy recalls the fever that plagued Joohyun last night.

 

“You just got out of a fever, remember? I’ll probably have higher chances of getting sick if I stay any longer with you.”

 

“But that didn’t stop you from cuddling me in your sleep, _remember?_ ” Joohyun quips back quickly, sounding like she won’t be taking no for an answer, a smirk playing her lips. “Or when you made me carry you out to the kitchen?”

 

Wendy hates how much Joohyun’s right.

 

Her brain’s looking for another excuse – anything to prolong her stay just so the cab could arrive, ignoring Joy’s not-so-subtle snickering in the background, as Joohyun bends down to tie her shoelaces.

 

“You’re not dying, are you?” Wendy asks on a whim.

 

What if she had taken Joohyun’s fever too lightly? That it might not just be due to a common illness like the flu? Joohyun’s been okay so far, dealing with a few coughing fits, but maybe—

 

Joy's voice filters through.

 

“Oh she _totally_ is.” Wendy perks up at Joy’s waving hand, her gut twisting at the affirmation. “She's not even going to make it through the week, so I suggest you two have that long-awaited sex I've been hearing right about now.”

 

Of course. Joy is being as flippant as ever.

 

“Sooyoung, stop lying.” Joohyun snaps over her shoulder, switching her leg to tie her other shoe.

 

Wendy’s gaze drops to Joohyun beside her, ignoring Joy’s giant grin, seemingly all-knowing, like she had caught Wendy’s heart pause in her throat.

 

As much as Joy makes it out to be a mere joke, she asks again, just to be sure.

 

“…So you're not dying?”

 

Joohyun stops mid-knot to pat Wendy’s leg, the older woman’s warmth melting briefly into her skin with each reassuring tap.

 

“I'm not,” she sounds as confident as the times Joy adamantly went on about missed opportunities for stripping her client naked. “You’ll see me Friday, Seungwan. I’ll make sure of it.” Despite sounding oddly like a childish pinky promise, Wendy believes her, watching Joohyun finally stand, dusting her knees. “Now, let’s get going before Sooyoung spouts any more lies.”

 

Wendy catches Joy spread her arms wide on the sofa, as if she were an actress on stage, her voice blooming in pretend sorrow, overly dramatic.

 

“But plot twist – it will be their _last._ ”

 

Joohyun’s turning the knob, already ushering Wendy out of the door, yelling over her shoulder just as Joy blows them a goodbye kiss.

 

“Just go watch your horror movies. I’ll be back soon.” Joohyun says, waving off the affection.

 

Wendy doesn’t get to hear Joy’s retort, her voice muffled by a closed door.

 

She doesn’t get to dwell much on it either though when Joohyun’s wrapping fingers around her wrist, dragging her gently towards a black car, her heat staining Wendy’s skin.

 

To think she didn’t try as hard as she could have to prevent an offered ride back home from Joohyun. At least with taxi drivers, there was nothing worth looking at except for the scrolling landscape whizzing past the window.

 

But with Joohyun? Wendy’s afraid that all she’ll be doing is ogle the older woman’s side profile – memorize each perfect carve from the slope of her nose to the curves of her lips and then dream of it.

 

She winces at Joohyun’s cough, a hand attempting to muffle her mouth.

 

“You should get back inside, Joohyun. You’re sick.”

 

“But—”

 

Wendy’s patting Joohyun’s back when another cough erupts from her throat. She can see how her client’s cheeks are still slightly flushed. Joohyun should be resting.

 

She spots the envelope.

 

“You can stop paying me altogether,” Wendy starts, catching Joohyun’s head jolt up to look at her. “But only if I get to go home on my own.”

 

“Then I’d be wasting your time,” Joohyun says, a frown along her lips. “For every Friday I spend with you when you could be earning money from someone else.” She’s combing back her hair, sighing. “Besides, I haven’t been paying you lately, either. You’re already letting me do that.”

 

Wendy hurries to dissuade her, even if what Joohyun was arguing was true.

 

Was this how Joohyun felt for every moment she rejected the purple envelope?

 

“Hyunnie,” she starts with a nickname she’s hoping will ease the rigid tension of clenching teeth lining Joohyun’s jaw. “I can afford to have the last shift on a Friday night be free of charge. I earn more than enough anyway, so—“

 

“So why would you keep going back to a guy who bites so hard that—“

 

Wendy’s eyes widen just as fast as Joohyun’s mouth slams shut, her teeth clicking like a clasp sealing close to a secret Joohyun shouldn’t know.

 

Was Joohyun referring to The Biter?

 

As far as Wendy can remember, Joohyun had commented about the bruises on her body the first night she had met the older woman. Joohyun hadn’t booked her appointment to clash with The Biter at the time, but for the next consecutive nights, Wendy had cancelled on a regular customer with a painful habit because she wanted to see Joohyun.

 

Did Joohyun purposely schedule their evenings together just so she wouldn’t have to see him? And for what? For a couple of little bruises that Wendy’s learned to deal with?

 

Did that mean Joohyun knew who he was during breakfast? Was that why she ran up a flight of stairs to catch an elevator knowing they were both in it? Was that why Joohyun never asked about their compromising position the moment the doors slid back open?

 

She hears something pause beside them, tiny gravel crunching beneath it, cracking into her ears, before recognizing the rectangle light perched on top of every cab.

 

What great timing.

 

“Your ride is here,” Joohyun’s stepping back, her eyes shifting downwards, like she can’t bring them up. “I’ll see you Friday, Seungwan.”

 

Wendy’s about to protest, shoo the cab driver away, but Joohyun’s shoving the purple envelope into her hands.

 

“I told you already why I won’t—“

 

_(“So no, I won’t let you pay me for making me feel like I’m finally home.”)_

 

“I know,” Joohyun intercepts, making sure Wendy’s fingers grip the small package. “I know, but _please…_ ” Wendy’s eyes widen at her plead, surprised at her client’s hands squeezing hers, as if Joohyun’s trying to find comfort in her still being there. “…Just let me, okay?”

 

Before she gets to answer, Wendy’s jumping at the sound of the cab honking, no doubt already impatient with waiting.

 

Joohyun’s letting her go, untangling their fingers, so she could move forward, walking up to the driver.

 

She catches her bring out a stack of bills.

 

But Wendy’s made up her mind the moment the pieces started clicking together. There was no way she would let Joohyun slip away _now._

 

Wendy rushes in before her client could give him anything, grabbing Joohyun’s wrist, tugging her back. She waves off the driver, dumping a crinkled ball of a few bills of her own just out of courtesy in his palm for arriving, ignoring Joohyun’s confused stuttering.

 

“W-What are you doing? Aren’t you going home?”

 

Wendy’s pulling her close, making sure her arms are wound tight around Joohyun’s elbow so the older woman can’t run away from her.

 

Wendy’s grinning.

 

“Change of plans. I’m staying over and you’re going to tell me _exactly_ what you meant by ‘you keep going back to a guy who bites so hard’, got it?”

 

Joohyun’s suddenly frantic, attempting to wrench her arm away from Wendy’s firm grip.

 

“H-Hey, I thought you said that you’ll probably have higher chances of getting sick if you stay any longer with me?!”

 

Wendy almost rolls her eyes, yanking Joohyun back just as she was about to slither away from her fingers. How slippery. She urges her to move forward, head back towards the apartment.

 

“But that didn’t stop me from cuddling you in my sleep, _remember?_ ” Wendy sing-songs, purposely reiterating Joohyun’s _very_ effective argument. “Or when I made you carry me out to the kitchen?”

 

It takes a long, tired, and very, very, heavy sigh to escape Joohyun’s lips before the older woman is finally nodding her head, resigned. Not that she had much of a choice, Wendy thinks lightly, sealing her giggles behind her mouth.

 

When Joohyun pushes the door open, trudging in dejectedly, kicking off her shoes like she had just found out her favorite store ran out of everything purple, Joy merely glances for a second before returning her gaze back to the television.

 

Wendy’s impressed that Joy’s not surprised, smiling at the crunching noise coming from Joy, how the giant is still cradling her bag of chips, specks of pieces staining the corners of her lips as she chews. Maybe Joohyun’s learned to be a messy eater from Joy, Wendy thinks then, recalling Joohyun’s lips having been dusted with strawberry jam earlier in the morning.

 

When she’s unclasping the hooks on her heels, shrugging off her fur coat for a simple pair of a red bra and lace underwear, Wendy can feel Joy’s eyes graze over her figure.

 

Before Wendy could call her out on it, Joy finally speaks, a teasing smile attached to each syllable.

 

“So, Joohyun unnie’s bed, or mine?”

 

Wendy attempts to hide her laughter behind a hand, all the while rubbing Joohyun’s back when she hears her client suffer under another coughing fit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to address some of your worries here, so to reassure you, no, there won’t be any death. This story is a lot more lighthearted than you might think. You’ll likely still be confused a little as to why Joohyun’s doing what she’s doing, but you’ll find out eventually; once I’m done throwing hints your way. Happy new year!


	4. Badge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene's not one for eavesdropping

Irene's not one for eavesdropping.

 

She can't help it though, when they don't bother keeping their voices down, announcing their conversations to the world like their throats were speakerphones.

 

Irene doesn't intrude though, as long as it doesn't bother others. It's barren at most during her night shifts, except for the regulars.

 

And they were the problem.

 

“She's cute isn't she. Try her for a night. She won't disappoint.”

 

Irene's heard this conversation more times than she could count.

 

And it was always about the same girl.

 

“You keep telling me to try her. Is she really that good?”

 

“As long as you go hard. She likes it rough.” One man with side-swept hair is bearing his teeth, “Like biting. God, you should hear her voice.”

 

Irene had been lost about what they talked about; she had asked Sooyoung about it over the phone and to say the least, the younger woman knew much more than her.

 

(“Prostitutes, unnie. Whores. You know, like the women on the street corners?”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Try picking one up unnie. You'll probably have a great time. Can't say the same for your wallet, though.”)

 

Irene's never really thought about them much; she's been too busy making deadlines meet and if that was their way of making a living, she can't judge.

 

They aren't any different from anyone else.

 

“You can do whatever you want since she's getting your money anyway. I'd make her kneel for me and--”

 

But Irene can't say she appreciates hearing conversations about someone else's sex life.

 

“Please keep it down,” Irene doesn't shy away when their gaze flick towards her, approaching them slowly. “Or I will have to show you the way out.”

 

She spots how some customers passing by shrivel away out of discomfort, one lady seemingly terrified to a halt, though her eyes keep wandering back to an aisle of medication that the men currently preoccupy.

 

Irene's steps don't falter even when they're standing up just a little straighter, chests puffing out as if it'd scare her.

 

“We're not doing anything wrong,”

 

“You're loitering,” Irene quips, eyes narrowing at the way one man scowls at her. “You've been standing here for the past thirty minutes. Unless you're buying something, you can't stay here.”

 

She ignores one's obnoxious grumbling, crossing her arms when they don't budge. Her gaze sweeps across them both, spotting a slip of paper between a man's fingers.

 

“We're here to buy something,”

 

“Then take it and I'll ring you up.”

 

Irene watches one with a relatively clean-shaven beard take a box of condoms, before he's handing it over to her. He seems much more obedient than the one with side-swept hair, who's muttering under his breath, hands jamming into his pockets. The paper is no longer visible.

 

She leads them over to her register, catching the lady from earlier mouthing a “Thank you,” before she disappears into the aisle of medications.

 

Irene's relieved that things go smoothly, dropping the change into the clean-shaven beard's hand and passing their purchase back. She ignores the middle finger from Side-Swept Hair, noting the slip of paper that falls out of his pocket.

 

When they disappear behind the doors, Irene lifts crinkled white, straightening it out the best she could, and reads an email address scribbled along with a single name.

 

Wendy.

 

Irene doesn't get the chance to think much more of it, shoving the paper into her pocket just as another customer comes by her register, her smile automatic as the lady places a box of Advil down on the counter.

 

She makes sure not to throw the creased ball into the trash even when her shift ends and she's in the warmth of her home, dumping the paper onto her kitchen table, grabbing a cup of water to quench the dryness in her throat.

 

Her eyes read over the name again.

 

Wendy.

 

Is she the woman they were talking about earlier?

 

Irene's never contacted a prostitute before. She knows they're completely ordinary -- just like any other person out there, so it shouldn't be too difficult. But would this Wendy even want to talk? And about what?

 

Irene stares at the email address scrawled on crumpled white.

 

Maybe not. She doesn't have the time, anyway.

 

-

 

The following week, she still hasn't caught up with the lecture material for the exam next month. Should she really be keeping this job?

 

“Thanks, enjoy your night.”

 

Irene returns the smile the customers send her way before the couple disappears behind sliding doors.

 

She presses a tired hand against the back of her neck, easing the kinks, sighing at the little cracks that unwind the tension in her bones. Maybe she should just quit her morning job instead. At least this evening shift doesn't have much people for her to deal with. They're kinder too. For the most part.

 

Glancing at the numbers ticking by on her wrist, Irene groans. To think she still has her graveyard shift at the hospital later – hopefully she can catch a quick nap after this.

 

Flipping through papers to check on stock, from the corner of her eyes, Irene spots the same man with side-swept hair. She's surprised he isn't with his friend, though he appears to be eager to leave, watching him grab a pack of condoms and make a bee-line straight for her.

 

“Will that be all?” Irene takes the box, sweeping it across the scanner.

 

He mutters “Yes,” hands still shoved in his pockets. His eyes are fidgeting back and forth between the box of condoms in her hands and the window of the parking lot. He must be in a hurry.

 

Irene takes note of the bite marks around his neck, smears of red lipstick painting the corners of his mouth. His eyes are dilated and frantic, too eager to grasp the plastic bag when she passes it over.

 

She knows what that means; she's seen enough men come barging through, scrambling for a box of condoms during the night. There's no need for her to guess.

 

She sees him enter a car, squinting to spot a woman in the passenger seat, blowing at her nails like she doesn't have a care in the world. Irene wonders how expensive that fur coat is; she looks too lavish to be his girlfriend when he can't seem to keep his pants zipped to a close.

 

Irene catches sight of red spots along the woman's neck, too.

 

Just as the car begins to back up from the parking lot, she catches how the woman rubs at her skin. Irene can't tell if she's imagining it when the woman winces, like it hurts to touch them, her expression switching to smile a second later when he kisses her.

 

“Hey, your shift is over.”

 

Irene jolts at her coworker's poke to her arm, before checking her watch, noting the time.

 

Oh, right. Home.

 

Irene nods and hurries to leave, sweeping up the products that some customers have chosen to go without, returning them to their respective aisles.

 

She’s pressing a hand into her pocket, fingers digging for the touch of wrinkled paper; it’s still there. Irene can't tell if the name scrawled on it belongs to the woman in the car. The only reason she has to connect the two together is through the same man.

 

But why does it even matter? Biting is typical with rough sex, anyway. And the woman doesn't look like she's getting forced into it, so there isn't anything for her to really worry about.

 

Glancing at her watch again, Irene wrenches her jacket off the coat rack, her car keys dangling between her fingers. She only has three hours for herself before her next shift at the hospital starts. Maybe she could squeeze in an hour of studying before resting completely.

 

She’ll think about the woman later.

 

-

 

Irene's going through her usual routine of checking up on patients when she hears her coworkers whisper by the reception desk.

 

“She's practically wearing nothing inside that giant furry coat,” it's a nursing student, likely still on her break. “The least she could do is close it.”

 

“What do you expect? She's a prostitute. Besides, it's eye candy.”

 

“Uh, yeah. For you.”

 

Irene doesn't know who they're talking about until silence claims their mouths, the thundering clacks echoing across the halls. A woman has stepped out of a room, her heels clicking with each stride. All Irene manages to catch is her side profile before the woman's turning a corner, recognizing the brown fur coat from her previous shift at the drug store.

 

It was the woman in the car.

 

“At least she's consistent with her checkups,” the receptionist chimes in, taking a clipboard from the doctor who had emerged from the same room as the woman. “She takes care of herself, and I think that's not something to look down on.”

 

Irene steps closer, placing her clipboard atop the desk, plucking a pen out of her white coat. She makes additional notes of the patients she's already visited, eyeing the paper that has the woman with the fur coat's name on it.

 

Son Seungwan Wendy.

 

So she _is_ the one the men have been talking about before.

 

There’s a scoff. “But she's a whore and—”

 

“And that doesn't make her any less of a person.” Irene’s gaze flickers towards the two students. “There shouldn't be any discrimination towards our patients. Or are you implying that you've been discriminating yours?”

 

She watches them shrivel back, before they offer brief apologies and excuses to scatter away. Irene doesn't bother looking for them, mind preoccupied with the name that's still scrawled on a piece of paper in her locker.

 

Glancing at the receptionist, spotting her nametag: Seulgi, Irene clears her throat.

 

“Does she come by often?” She points her pen towards the clipboard with the woman's name on it, “I think this is the first time I've seen her.”

 

“I'm not surprised,” Seulgi’s fingers are tapping away on her keyboard, “Her visits are usually in the afternoons, like how my shifts used to be, not during graveyard hours. I guess she really wanted to make sure the bites on her neck weren't as serious as they looked. They did seem pretty bad, though.”

 

Irene keeps mum.

 

It must be that Side-Swept again; he didn't look the type to be gentle, anyway.

 

She doesn't realize she's tapping her pen to the chaos rhythm in her head until the receptionist is giggling at her. Amusement is obvious in her eyes, like they’re swallowed in glitter.

 

“...What?” Irene's brows crinkle at the girl's rolling eyes.

 

“You look like you're going to do something about it.”

 

“Do something about what?”

 

“About that patient's bite marks,” Seulgi stops typing, cradling her chin in her hands, a smile glowing along her lips. “Do you know her?”

 

Irene shakes her head, a “No” leaving her throat. Clicking her pen and shoving it into her chest pocket, Irene steps off the counter; she still has more people to check over.

 

Seulgi is sighing, sounding almost disappointed even; Irene's not sure why.

 

Irene’s tucking her clipboard under her arm.

 

“What is it?”

 

Seulgi's shrugging, returning to her computer.

 

“Nothing. She just looked a little tired of everything, you know?” Irene doesn't know, actually, but Seulgi still continues, like she's seen her enough times to understand. “Anyways, I'm sure that's not the last we'll see of her.”

 

Irene only hums before Seulgi is waving her away, raising a hand to return her goodbye.

 

She doesn't think much of it afterwards, knowing that at the end of the day, what the woman does with herself is entirely up to her.

 

-

 

It's not until the fifth week of the woman coming by for another checkup does Irene start doubting her rationale.

 

She's signing off some papers when the hollow clacks of heels worm into her ears, raising her head to catch the woman's fading back, eyeing the way she rubs at her neck even in the distance.

 

“Whoever she's servicing for Friday nights must really love biting hard,” Irene turns to see Seulgi still typing away, the receptionist looking slightly bothered at her own voiced opinion. “I've never seen her come by this often.”

 

“You said it's usually once a month, right?” Irene asks, rounding up her papers. “I guess he's a relatively new customer then if she's willing to go through all this trouble to keep him.”

 

Seulgi is shrugging.

 

“Maybe it's because there are more law enforcement around, now.” She's handing a few documents over to a doctor passing by, “Something about having higher numbers of sex workers in this part of the city.” Irene tilts her head; she's never noticed. “So I guess she's afraid of losing customers? She's already competing with other escorts; adding extra police must be stressful. Loyalty _is_ pretty important.”

 

Irene can't say anything. It's a valid explanation for the woman's behavior of continuously returning to a client who constantly makes her worry for her own health.

 

“How do you know all this?”

 

Seulgi's eyes crinkle into crescent moons, giggles escaping her lips.

 

“We talk whenever she comes by, like today. She's really open about her work, so I guess I've learned a few things.”

 

Irene hums, nodding as Seulgi goes back to typing.

 

“Do you think that's right?” Irene asks, smoothing out invisible crinkles on black and white.

 

Seulgi's looking up at her, cocking her head to the side, a question mark engraved by the arches of her brows.

 

Irene purses her lips, the words scrambling for the proper order on her tongue.

 

“To keep going back to someone who hurts you,”

 

The receptionist is humming, a finger tapping against her chin. Irene didn't think it'd require that much thought, though. Wasn't the answer an obvious “No”?

 

“…You look like you're going to do something about it, again.”

 

Irene's eyes swivel back to meet Seulgi's, catching how her smile trails over her mouth.

 

“What?”

 

“It'd be great if she didn't need to visit for a checkup as often anymore,” Seulgi continues, going back to her keyboard. “Maybe come by just to say 'Hi', but not because she's scared about how bad the bites are getting, am I right?”

 

Irene's mouth stays shut, running a hand through her hair because Seulgi has a point. She is also well too aware of the creased ball of paper with the woman's name on it, still blaringly tucked in her locker for safekeeping.

 

When she bids Seulgi goodbye to finish the rest of her shift, Irene pretends she isn't all that concerned over a stranger's well-being.

 

Irene’s not quite sure what spurs her mind to think it’d be a good idea though – maybe the insatiable curiosity that lingers in obnoxious whispers between customers, to gossips between coworkers, but later that early morning, at the end of her shift, Irene makes a choice.

 

Her white coat hangs over her forearm, a source of comfort as she’s hitting ‘Compose’ on her phone, contemplating what to put on the ‘Subject’ line. She’s never contacted an escort before, so she’s not quite sure how the etiquette works. Maybe simple and straight to the point will do the trick?

 

Irene’s brows crinkle at the thought, words outlining themselves in her head, scrambling for a sentence, before typing them in.

 

_(I want to see you.)_

Sender: Bae Irene Joohyun

Sent: 4:05:12 AM

Sent: 10/09/17

 

She doesn’t expect an answer so early in the morning, relieved that at last, she gets to go home and sleep. Her next shift at the department store won’t be until ten in the morning anyway; plenty of time to relax and catch up on school materials.

 

Irene’s stuffing her things in her bag, her fingers already full with her car keys, clicking the locker to a close, when her phone vibrates and she has to fumble for the device, nodding quick “Goodbye’s” to her fellow coworkers.

 

She almost crashes into the poor nurse wheeling in several test tubes, sweeping to the side and spilling hasty apologies before her eyes return to scanning the contents of the email. Irene can’t believe she’s looking through it again and again just to make sure she was reading it right.

 

_(Are you sure? Because once you do, you won’t want to see anyone else.)_

Sender: Wendy

Sent: 4:10:22 AM

Sent: 10/09/17

 

Irene types in a reply as soon as she’s in the safety of her car, imagining the amusement already dripping in the woman’s tone. The confidence is easy to spot even when it’s only text in mere black and white.

 

Her thumbs pad the keys on her phone before hitting send, tucking the mobile away and shifting gears towards home.

 

_(That’s fine. I don’t want anyone else.)_

Sender: Bae Irene Joohyun

Sent: 4:12:37 AM

Sent: 10/09/17

 

-

 

The first time they are scheduled to meet, Irene is nervous.

 

She's listening to the water boil in the kettle, attempting to distract her nerves with anything. A cup of tea has always helped her calm down. It should boil faster.

 

Irene remembers their brief exchanges through email, though they've been rather short – simple clarifications of time and place, and price.

 

No wonder she could afford such a fancy fur coat.

 

As soon as Irene hears light knocking on the other side of the door, she breathes in, then out, and steels the nerves in her limbs.

 

“Hello,” Irene says as soon as the door opens, guiding her in. “Thanks for coming. Would you care for some tea?”

 

The woman remains mute, though she complies when she ushers her to sit on the bed, and takes the offered tea when given to her. Irene tries not to stare though when she slithers off her coat, drapes it over a chair, cream-white skin a contrast to her navy blue bra and black skirt.

 

Irene wonders why she sees confusion color the woman's eyes, how it paints crinkled skin between her brows, a frown lining her mouth.

 

“I'm Irene by the way, but I prefer Joohyun. What's yours?”

 

She doesn't miss the way the woman glances past her side, recalling that there's a clock on the bedside table.

 

“It's Wendy,” she's curling a strand of auburn behind her ear, amethyst dangling at her touch. “But I'd like to be called Seungwan instead. Just for tonight.”

 

It doesn't take long for Irene to learn how much of a skeptic Seungwan is. Her guard is higher than the walls of her apartment complex, her tongue sharper than the blades on her kitchen knives, and her appearance daring and unabashed.

 

Irene's gaze flits over the arches of Seungwan's lacy navy blue bra, taking note of the material's intricate patterns, embroidered with a touch too much for her wallet. She's always been critical of the clothes she washes, recognizing quality texture from the few expensive clothes she's purchased for herself. 

 

Money must not be an issue for Seungwan.

 

Seungwan's a lot more snarkier than she thought; and quite the cynic, too.

 

“I'll treat you like I treat anyone else,”

 

“Forgettable?”

 

Her scoff is expected. Irene can't blame her for her doubts; she can only imagine how her other customers treat her. Probably not all that pleasant.

 

“Important.”

 

The pink patches of circles and teeth marks she sees along Seungwan’s collarbone, shoulders, neck, chest – all are more than enough evidence to support it; unless she's into rougher sex.

 

Irene spots how her feet seem to be fairly worn, too. Anomaly paints Seungwan’s skin in red and tinges of purple-blue. High heels as tall as those aren't all that kind to their wearers, either.

 

“The least you could do is take care of yourself better.” Irene ignores Seungwan's yelp, resting her foot on her lap. “Your skin looks like it's begging for some appreciation.”

 

She has an idea of who the culprit might be. Some marks look fairly recent, splotches of pink painting Seungwan’s collarbone.

 

Irene wonders if Seungwan will be visiting the hospital again later.

 

When the hour is up and Seungwan is shielding herself in the safety of her fur coat, slipping on the heels Irene knows are far from comfortable, she hands her the envelope and tells her the truth.

 

“See you next Friday, Seungwan.”

 

Irene watches that tiny bit of confusion color Seungwan's eyes again, before it's masked by indifference, catching her wave a lazy hand as the door closes shut.

 

Putting the cups aside, Irene plops back down on the bed, shutting her eyes and wondering if she could convince her supervisor to pull her shift back an hour earlier, recalling the time Side-Swept had rushed in to buy a pack of condoms that one Friday evening several weeks ago.

 

If she could replace him in Seungwan's schedule for herself, then maybe she won't have bite marks for kisses anymore.

 

Irene wonders if Seungwan will keep choosing her.

 

-

 

The second time they meet, Irene notices that she lets her call her “Seungwan,” again.

 

Irene had let the name slip off her tongue without thought, but as soon as she had paused to contemplate whether she should refer to her as 'Wendy' instead, Seungwan had stared at her like she never noticed. She remembers Seungwan specifying that it was only to be used for that one night.

 

But Seungwan didn't correct her, so Irene didn't ask.

 

She hadn't been prepared for the woman's mischief, either.

 

She had known that as an escort, Seungwan would be well acquainted with more seductive approaches. Irene had already seen it in the way she would walk, the slopes of her legs accentuated by the careful rise and dip of each step, the sway in her hips hypnotic.

 

Irene remembers needing to look away, coughing into a hand, finding out that she wasn't immune to Seungwan's art in temptation – no matter how simple it was to just _walk._

 

“So what kind of services are you looking for? GFE? Since all we do is talk.”

 

Irene blinks the memory haze of five minutes ago, spotting Seungwan suddenly close to her, nearer than she remembers her to be. She doesn't speak up on it, pretending not to feel Seungwan's foot sliding against her leg.

 

“...GFE?”

 

Seungwan's tongue sweeps across her lips after a sip of her tea, the motion slow and calculated. But even when Irene knows she's being deliberate to elicit some sort of primal response, Irene can't help but give in a little, swallowing; her throat has run dry.

 

Seungwan draws temptation in with every action she makes. She needs to be careful.

 

“Girlfriend Experience. Good for clients who like to take things slow, pretend like we're a thing.” Seungwan's counting numbers with her fingers, “Cuddling, holding hands – mundane things. Like talking.”

 

Irene's not sure how to feel when Seungwan's letting a finger slide along her lips, the tip of her nail pressing in between. The sultry arch of her brow and the teasing smile on her mouth and the foot still sliding up her leg don't help either; they're blaring red indicators that Seungwan's quite the expert in her field – which is dangerous.

 

Irene grips her cup just a little tighter, hoping that Seungwan can't see her hand tremor. She admits that Seungwan is beautiful – some feelings of attraction is inevitable, but Irene's not prepared for something more primal crawling along her chest, too.

 

As long as they won't do anything more than hugging or holding hands, then she should be fine.

 

Seungwan's health is priority.

 

“I guess so...?”

 

It doesn't take long before she finds herself on her back in bed with Seungwan, stiffening when she feels the shorter woman curl an arm over her stomach. Irene's gritting her teeth behind closed lips when Seungwan takes her limp arm to play as her pillow – the scent of blueberries and jasmine waft into her lungs.

 

She could feel them embed into her brain, leaving a mark to remind her of just how intoxicating Seungwan really is. It's dizzying.

 

Irene shuts her eyes, ignores the way Seungwan's breath paints warmth against her neck, and focuses on just breathing. Her fingers curl against Seungwan's shoulder, massaging knuckles on soft skin, hoping that Seungwan finds comfort in the notion as much as she does.

 

Seungwan's good at her job; she doesn't doubt that. If Seungwan could bring out even a speck of temptation in her (Irene admits the woman has done so already, the desire a tickling sensation still roaming in her bones), she could only imagine how much lust Seungwan's managed to conjure up in the men she has already serviced – and still continues to.

 

Irene's not sure if she can handle hearing the details of Seungwan's sex life; most men are eager to give in to walking temptations.

 

“So you do this? With other clients?”

 

Irene chances a peek at Seungwan's face; her eyes are closed, the crinkles between her brows gone, the tension in her cheeks relaxed – she looks content.

 

Her hand doesn't stop massaging Seungwan’s skin.

 

“...Yup. And more.”

 

“...Do you like it?”

 

“It's easy.”

 

Seungwan sounds like she could fall asleep at any moment with the way her voice tapers off, mumbling against her shirt.

 

Irene considers asking her to stay.

 

But before she knew it, the hour is up and Seungwan's shifting away from her, looping her fur coat over her shoulders.

 

Irene makes sure the purple envelope is cradled safely between Seungwan's hands when she bids her goodbye and a promise for next time.

 

“See you next week, Seungwan.”

 

She feels something rise in her chest when Seungwan smiles in return, her eyes a pair of mesmerizing brown that Irene finds herself sinking into them until she's turning away, her figure disappearing much like the times she's seen her at the hospital.

 

Irene can't explain what's growing, wrapping itself around her heart; she just knows she can't wait to see her again.

 

-

 

Irene bites back a smile attempting to curl along her lips.

 

“She hasn't come in today...” Seulgi says, clacking away on her computer. “...I guess her customer isn't biting her anymore?”

 

She only shrugs when Seulgi gazes her way, flicking a pen open and scribbling her notes for the day.

 

Irene's glad Seungwan hasn't come in; it means she was right in her assumption that Side-Swept Hair was the culprit. None of the other days during the week have Seungwan worried enough to come in for a checkup during graveyard hours, so it was easy enough to deduce that his appointments with her were only on Fridays.

 

This is good. She won't have to book more than one evening to make sure Seungwan is okay.

 

She can still feel Seulgi's eyes on her.

 

“Maybe she isn't seeing him anymore,” Irene offers in hopes that she could persuade Seulgi to look elsewhere, “Who knows.”

 

The receptionist is mute for the next few seconds Irene scrawls abbreviations for other doctors to read over later. But when Seulgi's scrutiny doesn't leave her even when she's shoving her pen back in her pocket, Irene can't help but sigh.

 

“What?”

 

Seulgi's squinting at her, her mouth jutted into a pout, crinkles forming between her brows.

 

“...You look like you did something about it.”

 

Irene pretends she isn't bothered by the fact that Seulgi has hit bulls-eye too soon. It'd be nice to have someone to confide in about her new Friday night escapades, but she also knows that what she's doing is illegal; even if she isn't doing more than just talking with Seungwan.

 

“But I didn't,” Irene retorts, glancing at Seulgi's creeping smile. “What makes you think I did?”

 

“You look too relieved,” Seulgi’s tapping a thinking finger against her chin. “And a little pleased with yourself.”

 

She snorts, ignoring the tickle of panic inching its way up her spine.

 

“She's a patient of this hospital,” Irene says, curling her papers under her arm. “Of course I'm relieved and pleased to hear she isn't worried about her condition to visit us every week, now.”

 

Seulgi's nodding her head after a moment, appearing to take her words to heart. It was true, anyway; Irene wanted nothing more than to make sure she was okay.

 

“Whatever you say, unnie.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes at Seulgi's teasing grin and the doubt dancing in her voice. She leaves her as soon as a nurse comes up to ask Seulgi a question, disappearing around the corner before the receptionist could give her anymore of her knowing stares.

 

-

 

The third time they are scheduled to meet, Irene's not used to letting something feral control the gears in her limbs.

 

Irene hadn't been too surprised when she began to feel Seungwan's hands crawling up her back as soon as she turned away to pour tea. The woman seemed to be the type to seize whatever opportunity there was to take advantage of teasing her.

 

“...Careful,” Irene had felt Seungwan's fingers trail up her arm, “Wouldn't want you to spill that tea or you might have to lick it off me.”

 

It was fine, she thought – it couldn't get worse. She had managed to handle that fairly well, albeit, with a little more difficulty than she would like. But it was over, and Irene could breathe.

 

But of course it'd get worse.

 

She had just lent her a shirt to wear, figuring that Seungwan might be cold – a bra could only warm up so much. But Irene hadn't considered that it could be interpreted a little differently.

 

“Because you're lending me clothes like I'm your girlfriend.”

 

And now she’s here, with blood rushing to her head and a cough erupting from her throat. Irene swears she'll probably have to visit the hospital as a patient if this keeps up.

 

“Careful there, unnie.” Seungwan's crossing her legs, the button-up slipping off her shoulders. “You're going red like you got caught.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes; to think that Seungwan's using her shirt as additional ammo to her already filled arsenal of patient temptation – she should’ve known better. She’ll just have to cover it up.

 

But Irene learns quickly that Seungwan doesn't like to make things easy for her.

 

“Let's play a game.” Seungwan's arching a brow, a smile painting her lips. “For every button you close on mine, I'll unbutton one of yours.”

 

Irene has to swallow again, her heart getting louder in her ears.

 

It doesn't help when Seungwan dives in to rip off the buttons a few moments later before the countdown even begins. Irene could feel the tips of Seungwan's nails scrape at her skin, feeling air breeze across her chest, sees the way Seungwan moves closer, forcing her to drown in her scent of jasmine and blueberries and—

 

There's a growl scratching the base of her throat, desire bubbling in her chest, boiling her insides; Seungwan's too close.

 

Suddenly she's filled with a picture of a winded Seungwan, watches how her chest rises and falls, her lips parted for air, her eyes wide and enchanting. Irene doesn't realize she's trapped Seungwan below her until she spots the shorter woman's wrists sealed above her head, under her tense grip.

 

Irene curls her free hand against the bed sheet, gripping smooth white in a shaking fist, attempting to steady herself and pretend she isn't between Seungwan's legs. Something's snarling at her chest, ripping at her lungs, screaming at her to drink in Seungwan's gasp if only to taste her lips. Irene suddenly wants to make her moan and tremble under her touches and—

 

“...That's cheating.” Irene says, finding it hard to breathe.

 

She needs to get whatever last remnant of self-control she has left, trickling away with every second that ticks by with Seungwan breathing under her, how auburn strands curl over her neck, emphasizing the smooth slopes of her collarbones—

 

Irene hurries to cover it all up, quaking fingers working their way with each button.

 

“Look who's cheating now?”

 

The playful lilt in Seungwan’s voice triggers something inside her, something competitive and childish and daring. Irene can't stop herself from leaning down, letting Seungwan's scent fill her lungs, swallowing her whole.

 

She could kiss her. It'd be so easy.

 

“I'm a quick learner.” Irene says instead, letting the words be her stalemate against breaths of temptation.

 

She lets Seungwan go before she could do anything more, closing the buttons on her own shirt that Seungwan had been adamant to remove, and hurries to give her the purple envelope.

 

Irene can't have her stay any longer for tonight; she's afraid she'll do something and even if she's essentially paying Seungwan's time for that one purpose only, that's not what Irene is here for.

 

She wants to make that clear for Seungwan.

 

Just as she was about to close the door, breathe back in the air she’s lost, she catches Seungwan spin around. Irene swallows whatever speck of lust is still lingering on her mouth, hoping that it'll be enough to just stop and listen.

 

“Did you forget something?”

 

“Your shirt,”

 

She's attempting to slip off her fur coat but Irene raises a hand, gripping Seungwan's fingers to hold them still. Irene pretends she doesn't feel her skin tingle against Seungwan's, how her heat crawls up her arm.

 

“Keep it.”

 

Even if it's just a shirt, Irene hopes Seungwan finds comfort in it. And warmth. It's getting cold out, after all.

 

When Seungwan finally leaves, Irene decides to have a long cold shower. She needs to get rid of the fire still blazing in her blood if she's going to want to focus at the hospital later tonight.

 

But even when she's drenched in the cold, the shower head relentless with its freezing temperature, Irene stares at her quaking hands, the memory of Seungwan beneath her a torturous reminder.

 

-

 

Irene's not prepared to come home from work on Tuesday only to be welcomed minutes later by obnoxious knocking.

 

She's grumbling out of bed and dragging her feet across the floor, yawning behind a hand before twisting the knob open.

 

Irene blinks up at a Giant.

 

“Good morning, unnie!”

 

She winces at the greeting, scratching at her ear to help ease the ringing, her head beginning to ache at the thought of her friend being here.

 

And it’s four-thirty in the _morning._

 

Sooyoung attempts to barge through not a second later, but Irene sticks a leg and arm out, blocking a luggage from plowing in, catching even a backpack over Sooyoung's shoulder.

 

Her voice is raspy with sleep, but she’s thankful her reflexes are still as sharp as ever – especially when it comes to unwelcomed surprises.

 

“...What’s all this?”

 

Sooyoung's grinning at her, cheeky – even if the image itself is still blurry with slumber, blowing a kiss at her that Irene instinctively waves off.

 

“Hey there, roomie.”

 

Irene's blinking at her again. Sooyoung's annoying grin is becoming clearer.

 

“...What?”

 

“You heard me,” Sooyoung giggles, bumping her shoulder, teetering on her feet like she's eager to step inside. “So can I go in now? It's cold!”

 

Irene doesn't budge, ignoring Sooyoung's pout.

 

“Why would I let you move in with me?”

 

“Because I got assigned here and it's too far from home to travel back and forth so I thought, 'Oh, my kind and ever-loving unnie who always has my back would take care of me',” Sooyoung pinches her cheek, “...Something like that.”

 

Irene slaps her hand away, rubbing at her skin, scowling at the Giant's cackling.

 

“What new assignment would have you so far from home, anyway?”

 

Sooyoung is smiling at her, shuffling in when Irene moves aside (she feels like she's going to regret this soon), before the Giant's speaking over her shoulder.

 

“There are reports of lots of sex workers on this side of the city so...” Sooyoung grunts, laying out her luggage to rest on the floor. “...just here to catch them, the usual.”

 

There it is – that moment of regret.

 

Irene could suddenly see the ball of crinkled paper still shoved in the safety of her study desk.

 

She spots the pair of handcuffs tucked against the side of Sooyoung's belt. She's forgotten that Sooyoung works as a cop. Great.

 

Irene's senses have heightened, awareness skyrocketing that sleep has already become the last thing on her mind.

 

Seungwan.

 

“Shouldn't you be catching the ones who use their services?” Irene asks, all too conscious of the fact that she's eligible for arrest.

 

But she knew what she was getting herself into; she just needs to know if Seungwan is already a part of Sooyoung's wanted list. 

 

“Of course, unnie.” Sooyoung's chuckling, like the question was silly. “Anyways, will I be making the living room my bedroom, or...?”

 

Irene shakes her head, lifting a hand to press fingers against her temple, shutting her eyes at the thought of having Sooyoung over.

 

It isn't that big of a deal, especially since this'll help her monitor Sooyoung's movements, but how will she explain her Friday night disappearances? Blame it on work?

 

Hopefully Sooyoung won't be too much of a bother when exams roll in, too.

 

“No, I've got another room I've been using as extra storage.” Irene takes Sooyoung's backpack for her, leading her down the hall. “I have a futon though, not an extra bed.”

 

“That's more than enough, unnie. Thanks.” Sooyoung's prodding her back, her palm warm against Irene's white button-up. “Sorry to um, well, spring this up on you all of a sudden...”

 

She knows Sooyoung means well. She's always taken her job seriously, and with pride.

 

Irene hushes her with a pat on her shoulder.

 

“Just help me pay rent then,”

 

Sooyoung's laughing as she settles her luggage down at the corner by the bookshelf. Irene yanks the futon from the closet, passing it over to eager hands.

 

“Of course, unnie.”

 

When Irene leaves Sooyoung to settle her things, she wrenches the paper out of the drawer of her study desk, the name and email address still visibly scrawled on. The edges of black ink have begun to fade.

 

She could easily hand this over and give Sooyoung her first arrest.

 

“Hey unnie, I'll cook something for you tonight so don't go touching the kitchen, got it?”

 

Irene chuckles, yelling a “Sure,” over her shoulder, shoving the paper back into her desk.

 

No, she won't let that happen. She'll keep both Seungwan and herself, out of it.

 

-

 

The days Irene isn't at work, school, or with Seungwan on Friday nights, she's busy juggling study materials and Sooyoung's progress.

 

It takes a toll on her sleep schedule, but Irene can't have Seungwan get caught; she hasn't done anything incredibly wrong to warrant arrest (or so Irene would like to think; she's all too aware of how illegal prostitution is), anyway.

 

“Are you just focused on sex workers or...?” Irene asks, rubbing at her eyes, trying not to nod off – but her head feels heavy and a nap sounds good right about now.

 

Sooyoung's looking through her tablet, a long text with a symbol of the police's brand sitting at the top right-hand corner. It appears to be some sort of briefing.

 

“We multitask,” Sooyoung says, scrolling through more walls of printed black. “But it was assigned to be my primary concern, so...”

 

Irene hums, running a frustrated hand through her hair. She'll have to be a lot more careful then.

 

“Any leads?”

 

“A few,” Sooyoung mutters, curling a strand of ebony behind her ear. “Escorts are a lot harder to pin down. They're sharper when it comes to law enforcement.”

 

Irene feels her fingers around the cup of tea relax, the tension in her hands dissipating a little at the knowledge.

 

Seungwan's a good person; their fourth night together told her as much.

 

Irene remembers how stiff she had gotten when Seungwan approached her with obvious purpose, her stomach having twisted in knots at the feel of the woman settled all too comfortably on her lap.

 

Her glasses only made things worse.

 

“Will you get to reading me too?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Irene hadn't understood what Seungwan was getting at, until luscious lips curled into that sly smile, holding her breath when Seungwan leaned in too close for comfort.

 

Her ears had felt like they were soaked in fire; it didn't help when Seungwan's chest pressed against hers, the escort's hand a wandering problem over her rigid arm, the other teasingly fiddling with the button on her collar.

 

She knew Seungwan wouldn't do anything past playing as an enchantress; any initiation for further touches beyond holding hands were up to the customer's discretion.

 

“Oh you know, when we have sex eventually.”

 

Irene had rolled her eyes to pretend she wasn't so close to actually giving in at that moment.

 

“Hey, mind telling me what you know about this one?”

 

Irene blinks memories of Seungwan's sly smiles and shy giggles from that night back into a corner of her mind, finding Sooyoung staring at her.

 

She's tapping a finger on her tablet, a curious brow raised.

 

It doesn't take more than a glance to know that the image she's currently looking at is a picture of Seungwan.

 

“I've heard from the hospital you work at that she used to come by on Fridays during graveyard hours,” Sooyoung says, curling another strand of hair from her face. “That she used to just get regular monthly checkups, but recently, began visiting once a week due to worries over bite marks.” Her words sound like a script off a brief summary report, “And now she hasn't come by at all.”

 

Irene attempts to keep her emotions sealed behind her chest, locked away so none of them is displayed across her face, or dripping through the twitches of her fingertips.

 

Sooyoung's scrutiny is steady when she glances back up at her.

 

“Do you know anything about that?”

 

Irene's relieved she hasn't spilled anything to anyone at the hospital. Even if Seulgi may have a growing suspicion, she can't prove it.

 

“I've seen her a few times,” Irene is combing a hand through her scalp, “She'd be leaving by the time I'd catch her though. My coworkers are quick to gossip, too.” She twirls the spoon in her cup, “So yeah, I've heard about her, and I've seen her, but nothing else.”

 

Irene makes sure she's not fidgeting; she can't have Sooyoung inspecting her every move.

 

“Where did you spend your Friday night, unnie?”

 

She feels her fingers twitch around the cup, spotting Sooyoung's narrowed eyes, curiosity drawing their depths.

 

Right. She had spent the entire night with Seungwan for the first time; the woman had fallen asleep during her story regarding the translation process, recalling how Seungwan had draped over her shoulder, muttering about wanting to sleep.

 

So Irene had let her. She had made sure to call the hospital that she wouldn’t be able to make it, too.

 

When all she heard was Seungwan's steady breathing, the escort's grip around her arm loosening to fall limp in her lap, Irene made sure to keep quiet.

 

She had been careful to shift them properly in bed, laying Seungwan on her back, hiding them both under the covers. Irene had felt nervous when Seungwan snuggled closer, as if instinctively looking for the warmth her body emitted. Hesitation gripped her arms when she mustered the courage to pull Seungwan in, and stiffened at the feel of the shorter woman's nose nuzzling her neck, her breaths ghosting her collarbones.

 

Irene feared that the primal want she had felt for Seungwan a week before would come back again, especially with the woman tucked in her embrace, but all that had risen in her chest was something softer. She didn't think much of it and had settled for holding her close.

 

Irene wasn't surprised to see the bed empty of Seungwan the following morning, with the shirt she had lent folded neatly beside her and a note to play as Seungwan's voice.

 

It wasn't hard to miss her purple envelope still peeking out of her bag.

 

“I was with a friend,”

 

Irene's struggling to keep her composure when Sooyoung's sliding a piece of crumpled paper. She sees Seungwan's other name still visibly scrawled on it, along with her email address.

 

“I admit. I snoop a lot,” Sooyoung's tapping a finger against the creases of white, “Maybe that's why I'm a cop, but imagine my surprise when I found this hiding in your desk. I recognize the name.”

 

Irene could feel her lips thin to a line.

 

“I picked it up when a customer dropped it one night,” she says, resting her chin in her hand, shrugging. “I've completely forgotten that I had that.”

 

“Are you sure?” Sooyoung asks, a brow arching upwards. “Because I've been tailing one of her customers and he's been complaining for the past few Fridays that his favorite escort has replaced him with someone else.”

 

Irene almost rolls her eyes at the image of Side-Swept childishly flicking his middle finger at her once before. She's not surprised to hear about him whining.

 

But she won't let him near Seungwan anymore; she's seen how the shorter woman's skin has gradually returned to its color.

 

“Maybe she doesn't want to see him anymore,” Irene slips off her stool chair, easing her cup into the sink. “I wouldn't know.”

 

Sooyoung's sliding up next to her, bumping her hip, a cheeky grin plastering her mouth.

 

“So, how's the sex like?”

 

Irene is thankful that the cup is already resting in the sink; she has no doubt that she would've dropped it had Sooyoung asked a few seconds earlier.

 

Irene's spluttering. “W-What?”

 

“Come on, I know you heard me, unnie.” Sooyoung's nudging her ribs with her elbow, “Was it wild, hot, rough, sex? Or soft, gentle, and passionately, sweet?”

 

Irene jabs Sooyoung's probing arm, scowling at the taller woman's grin.

 

“I wouldn't know.” She says, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed.

 

It isn't a lie, either. Irene's sure Wendy is truthful when she says she’s good in bed, but sex isn't her priority.

 

Joy's clicking her tongue, shrugging her shoulders.

 

“I guess I'll just have to see for myself, then. I've got some free time on Friday nights too, after all.” Sooyoung's whipping her phone out, “Now, what should I say in the 'Subject' line...?”

 

Irene's gripping her arms tighter, nails digging into her skin.

 

She can't believe what Sooyoung's doing – isn't she a cop?

 

Her fingers twitch again at the sight of Sooyoung typing on her phone, the urge to wrench the small piece of paper out of the Giant's hand boiling through her veins.

 

She's not sure if Sooyoung's just playing with her. Was she expecting her to act out of jealousy? Or was she genuinely interested in Seungwan's services?

 

Irene knows Seungwan is still actively servicing others on the days she doesn't have her booked, so it can't be green envy that's crawling its way up her throat. Could it?

 

Either way, Sooyoung contacting Seungwan can't be good; she's still law enforcement.

 

“Shouldn't you be working instead of looking for sex?”

 

“Well, if you must know,” Sooyoung muses, winking her way. “I'm not a particularly ‘good’ cop, if you catch my drift.”

 

Irene feels her jaw go slack, blinking up at Sooyoung's chortling, how her body shakes with laughter that she almost drops her phone. Irene kind of wishes she did at that moment, if only to prolong the inevitable.

 

Once she spots Sooyoung continue to type away on her phone, Irene's gritting her teeth at the thought of what she was about to do.

 

Irene's already imagining how much she'll regret this.

 

“...I know her,”

 

Sooyoung's thumbs freeze above her phone's keypad, her eyes swiveling back to meet hers.

 

“...What?”

 

Irene coughs behind a hand, clearing her throat.

 

“That escort, 'Wendy'.” She’s shoving nervous hands into her pockets. “...I'm the replacement for those Friday nights.”

 

Sooyoung's jaw slacks, visibly dropping the moment the truth comes out. Irene winces at the shrill click Sooyoung's teeth makes when she snaps it back shut.

 

“Oh. My. God.” Irene barely has any time to react when Sooyoung wrenches her into a hug, squeezing her lungs out.

 

Irene is gasping for air, attempting to shove Sooyoung off, her palm pressing hard against the Giant's cheek. Sooyoung's lifting her up and Irene growls at the fact that her feet are flailing above the floor.

 

“H-Hey, why does it feel like you're celebrating?!”

 

“Uh, because I am?” Sooyoung is cackling, “I could never imagine you to be doing something illegal, unnie.” Sooyoung's finally letting her go, the floor a comforting touch beneath her feet. “That's usually _my_ job.”

 

Irene's combing her hair back, huffing.

 

“Right.”

 

Sooyoung’s wiggling eyebrows are distracting – and so is the upward curl on the corner of her lips.

 

“How do you know it's safe enough to trust her, anyway?”

 

Irene’s leaning back against the countertop, tapping the surface with a finger.

 

“Because she'll be too busy trying to figure out if it's safe enough to trust _me_. Her job calls for getting stuck with a stranger for an hour and hoping they're kind enough to touch her properly without endangering her safety.” Irene pauses, “If anything, it's her clients I don't trust.”

 

Sooyoung grins, looking impish. She’s nudging her elbow again that it makes Irene roll her eyes.

 

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you.” Sooyoung’s scoffing, “Even _I_ would trust you because you're as boring as a rock.”

 

Irene shrugs.

 

Sooyoung’s bumping her shoulder.

 

“Is that why you're paying for her time? To make sure she's safe at the end of every week?”

 

Irene frowns. Is that what she’s doing? She hasn’t really thought about it – she’s just _doing_ it. Is that what it looks like?

 

Sooyoung’s humming at her response – or lack thereof. Irene doesn’t have anything to say to that. It certainly _sounds_ like a description of what she’s doing, but isn’t she just making sure that Side-Swept doesn’t get to bite Seungwan anymore?

 

“So what now?” Irene asks. She’ll think about that later.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You're a cop, Sooyoung.” She’s gesturing to the handcuffs tied to her belt. “I didn't think I'd need to remind you of that.”

 

Sooyoung snorts.

 

“Correction: I never said I was a 'good' cop. And as sad as that sounds, there's a lot of us.”

 

“So...”

 

“So because I'm a bad cop and your _very_ good friend, I'm going to leave you be.”

 

Irene can’t believe what she’s hearing.

 

“...Really?”

 

She’s not surprised to see Sooyoung laugh, feeling the taller girl slap her back with every choked giggle. Irene coughs at the pressure.

 

“Of course not.” Sooyoung’s wiping the corners of her eyes, her laughter dipping to snorts and chuckles. “I've still got a job to do. So either you convince her to stop, or I'll stop her for you.”

 

Irene keeps mum, not liking either option. Seungwan could be stubborn if she wants to be – she’s not eager to jump into arguments with the escort if she could help it.

 

Sooyoung is nudging her again.

 

“If you’re so worried about her, then give me a reason not to.”

 

“What?”

 

Sooyoung's shrugging her shoulders.

 

“If you can convince her to stop working as an escort, then I won't have to arrest her – _and_ you, now will I?”

 

Irene frowns, ignoring Sooyoung's smile.

 

“But if it's what she wants to do, then who am I to stop her?”

 

“A nobody,” Sooyoung quips, curling ebony behind her ear. “Which is why you might as well just let me take her in now.”

 

Irene arches a brow.

 

“But I won’t.”

 

“Clearly.” Sooyoung’s rolling her eyes, but the sigh on her lips isn’t out of anger – Irene can hear curiosity in her voice, too. “What are you doing, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re protecting her.”

 

Irene purses her lips. “I'm not protecting her.”

 

“Then what are you doing?”

 

“Giving her a choice.” She’s crossing her arms, “Choosing between someone she knows will hurt her or someone who won't.”

 

Irene’s scowling at Sooyoung’s mocking kissy-face; how the taller girl is even cooing at her.

 

“Aren't you confident for being that 'someone who won't hurt her'. How cute.” Sooyoung dodges her swatting hand, “But isn’t that protecting her?”

 

Irene scoffs, turning around to spin the faucet. She might as well wash the dishes still left in the sink now, considering that Sooyoung’s keen on questioning her motives.

 

“Not when she gets to decide who she wants to be with.”

 

“So basically letting her choose either to get rough sex, or having a tea party?”

 

The comparison is fairly accurate. Irene nods at the imagery.

 

Sooyoung’s giggling.

 

“To think she ends up choosing you,” Sooyoung’s smirking, those waggling eyebrows returning. “Again and again and _again_.”

 

Irene blinks at the swift feel of Sooyoung's finger flicking her forehead, rubbing at the sore spot and frowning at the Giant's sly grin.

 

“I'd choose rough sex any day of the week over boring tea, unnie. But then again, I'm not the one in love.”

 

“You’re exaggerating, Sooyoung.”

 

Irene flicks bubbles and water at Sooyoung’s squeals and giggles and that teasing smile. She still has more studying to do after all this, too.

 

She’s grateful when Sooyoung joins in to dry the dishes, hearing the taller woman hum, as if agreeing.

 

“Probably.”

 

-

 

Tomorrow's her test and Irene swears she's got the worst migraine in all her twenty-six years of being alive.

 

It doesn't help that she's made it back home with a very sore hand and possibly bruised knuckles.

 

“You look like you're going to drop dead before your practical exam, unnie.”

 

Irene tries to protest, her lips attempting to move, form words, but all that slips out is a groan, steadying herself against the wall.

 

God, what a splitting headache. And her wrist is aching.

 

But she can't skip out on meeting Seungwan tonight. It's not an option. What if Side-Swept still books appointments with her and the only reason Seungwan doesn't go to his is because she's following through with _hers?_ Seungwan seems to be the type to grasp at opportunities; if she doesn't provide Seungwan her time, then wouldn't Seungwan just choose to fill it with someone else? It _is_ still work, after all.

 

Seungwan's been dodging her questions regarding the envelope, too. Irene still doesn't understand why she won't take it. It defeats the entire purpose of replacing the man. At least he pays for Seungwan's time. But _her?_ What reason would there be for Seungwan to choose her over him if he's the one who gets to provide Seungwan with the money she _needs?_ Wouldn't she just be wasting Seungwan's time?

 

Wouldn't it be better for her to stop then?

 

Sooyoung's rubbing her back, her voice tinted with concern that Irene almost teases her about it if not for the pain racking her skull.

 

“This is what happens when you juggle three jobs, med school, and a not-girlfriend who you treat like she's one. Though I don't see why you won't relieve some stress with her because it's technically her _job._ ”

 

Irene huffs, shooing away Sooyoung's helping hand and treks towards her room. She needs to lie down – maybe catch up on some sleep, too. She'll need it before putting in some last minute studying for tonight.

 

“...You know that's not why I see her,” Irene says, wobbling on unsteady legs.

 

Waking up to Seungwan on top of her last Saturday morning has left her troubled more than she’d like. There's chaos in her chest every time Seungwan lingers in her mind’s eye, occupying each nook and cranny that it takes up more space in her head than the notes she should already know for tomorrow.

 

She doesn't dare think about Seungwan's weight on her lap, how she had pressed against her, made Irene's shirt ride up because of her sinful _rocking—_

 

_(“Watch me.”)_

 

Irene shuts her eyes, hissing at the memory, the image of Seungwan slowly dragging her fingers down to unbutton what she had lent her – it's fueling the discord in her chest.

 

It terrifies her how much she had wanted to sit up and claim Seungwan's teasing smile for her own.

 

She's always known what “riding” meant, but not “rocking”. It certainly helps that Sooyoung's well-versed in sex, at least, with its terms. But Irene didn't know that they meant the _same thing –_ until that moment.

 

Seungwan's become both her nightmare and daydream.

 

Sooyoung's clicking her tongue, the sound ricocheting in her ear that Irene winces from it. It's so loud. She doesn't argue about the hand snaking around her waist; she's too tired to not accept help.

 

“Because you want to make sure she's fine at the end of every week, blah blah blah, I got it.” Sooyoung says, as if sick of hearing the same tune, even though it’s more of her assumption than a fact. “It's dumb, in my opinion. And a huge waste of time.”

 

Irene only grunts, twisting the door knob and shoving it open.

 

Sooyoung's guiding her towards the bed, but not without spewing more judgment.

 

“And that guy you've replaced? I doubt he'll settle down – all he has to do is book a time that isn't Friday.” Irene sighs as soon as her back meets the mattress, “If he wants Wendy so much, he'll get her.”

 

“I'll buy her time then, too.”

 

“This isn't a game, unnie.”

 

“It's never been one,” Irene says, her gaze flicking to meet Sooyoung's. “She's not a waste of my time.”

 

Especially not when Seungwan takes up every fleeting second like the oxygen she breathes in.

 

But maybe she's wasting Seungwan's.

 

“Do you even know what you're getting yourself into?” Sooyoung's sitting beside her, her bed dipping under her weight. “These clients of hers aren't all as nice as you. They're unpredictable and when you cut someone off from their 'happy place', they can be dangerous, too. I would know.”

 

Irene doesn't doubt her. With a job as lucrative as Seungwan's, there's bound to be danger.

 

But Seungwan's taking that risk every single day.

 

“I know,” Irene's rubbing her temple, a smile twitching at the corner of her lips. “All the more reason why I'll keep seeing her.”

 

If she can make one working day for Seungwan danger-free, then it's a time well spent. She just needs to have Seungwan accept her payment again.

 

Irene winces at a flick to her forehead, Sooyoung's clicking tongue a menace in her ears again.

 

“If I wasn't your best friend, I'd go 'aww' at the sweetness of it,” Sooyoung's prodding her ribs that Irene has to swat it away, “Good thing I am, so I'll say you're stupid instead.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes, shifting on her bed so her back faces Sooyoung; a sign telling her to stop bothering her and hopefully to catch up on some sleep.

 

“And what the hell happened to your hand?”

 

Irene winces at Sooyoung's prodding touch to her wrist, yanking her hand back just as she's about to circle a grip around her skin.

 

Sooyoung's clicking her tongue, grabbing at her upper arm and forcing it back up from beneath the blanket. She’s always man-handled her even when she’s still older.

 

“Did you punch someone?” She's tracing a thumb over the slopes of Irene's knuckles, “I see a little bruising here.”

 

Irene yelps at the pressure on her wrist, attempting to bring her hand away from prying touches but Sooyoung's stronger.

 

Sooyoung's blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

 

“I should've taught you how to throw a fist properly,” she's sketching fingertips across the back of her hand, “but I didn't think you were the type to throw one in the first place.”

 

Irene huffs, grimacing at the headache that still won't leave. She remembers the little argument she had back at work; how the man's smug smile and arched brow fueled her anger more than she thought it could have already.

 

She's always been able to keep her cool, especially when she's working, but the man – who happened to be Side-Swept's friend (though she only remembers them talking together once), had made her blood boil faster than the scanner's ability to read barcodes.

 

It didn't help that her head was throbbing and her mood was already soured for the evening.

 

“...Someone said something I didn't like,”

 

“So you punched them?”

 

“...Yes.”

 

“What did they say?”

 

Irene watches the way Sooyoung cradles her hand; the gentlest she's ever seen. She would tease her about it if her head wasn't pounding and her hand wasn't still aching.

 

She recalls the words he spat out amongst his group of friends, talking about Seungwan like he knew her. And her body.

 

He probably _did_ knowing Seungwan's type of work, but that's no excuse for the stupidity that left his mouth.

 

“Something he shouldn't have.”

 

Irene remembers scanning items for him and his friends, recalling that Side-Swept wasn't with them.

 

She had ignored most of their chatter, pretended not to hear about the details regarding Seungwan: how she's particularly sensitive to touches along her hips, or how the noises she makes arouses him enough to last for a few additional rounds, how even her mouth could fit more than—

 

_“You should keep those thoughts to yourself,”_

 

Irene remembers the anger festering in her stomach; how it had risen up to make her voice spill like a knife splitting paper.

 

She can't bring herself to think of the things he had said. Not even in her own head.

 

At the time, Irene hadn't even been able to consider her own words – filter them out as politely as she could because work wouldn't allow such misbehavior from their employees, but he had laughed like it was funny and Irene felt the remaining balance of self-control tilt completely.

 

 _“Why? Freedom of speech, lady. Besides,”_ Irene remembers the grin on his face and the arrogant arch of his brow. _“What I'm saying is true. After all, she's making a living out of sucking my di—”_

 

Irene couldn't hear anything else but the constant ringing in her ears. Her arm had reeled back just enough to have all of the quaking rage coil up along her skin and bones, her fist shaking with a tremor she couldn't hold in any longer. She barely registered his gaping mouth and widening eyes when she swung at him, the sound of impact crackling into her ears, drawing satisfaction along her chest – easing the anger that blazed there.

 

Pain never registered when she watched him stagger backwards, toppling over an aisle of candies and chocolates. She wanted to laugh at his squirming, attempting to get back up to a stand, but just seeing him scramble to his feet wasn't good enough.

 

Irene couldn't care less about the numerous gazes shifted to her, not even when his group of friends helped him up and he was stalking towards her, fuming.

 

_“You bi—”_

 

She had barely registered the bodyguards coming forward to halt him, gripping his arms behind his back. Irene watched him thrash against them, finding no mind when additional guards came to stop her too just as she was about to step closer.

 

Irene knew as soon as her boss filtered into her peripheral, that she was no longer going to be working there anymore.

 

It was fine. As long as he stopped talking about Seungwan like _that—_

 

“So you got yourself fired?”

 

Irene hums, shutting her eyes at a sudden painful throbbing in her head, raising her free hand to massage her temple.

 

“...Yeah,”

 

She listens to Sooyoung's mute lips, seemingly thoughtful. It's only silence now, but Irene doesn't mind it. She's said her piece; she'd just like to rest and catch up on some sleep before meeting up with Seungwan later. She'll pitch in more studying, then.

 

Irene's twisting over so her back faces Sooyoung again, squeezing her eyes at another pound of pain. It'll just take a few days for the soreness in her hand to leave (at least she could still move her fingers to hold a pen; writing won't be much trouble for tomorrow’s test), and a good nap for the migraine to disappear.

 

But she doesn't expect Sooyoung's words a moment later.

 

“You're not seeing Wendy tonight, got it?”

 

Irene whirls around, to spout whatever protest is already writing across her tongue, but her head is pounding even harder from the sudden motion and her vision is blurring in circles.

 

The room is spinning.

 

“You're obviously not feeling well, unnie. Where's your bag?” Irene manages to lift a shaking hand, pointing at a corner. “Ah, there. I'm taking the money, by the way. Which hotel and room number did you book for tonight?”

 

Irene breathes in at a sharp pang near the back of her head.

 

“...The same one,”

 

“How consistent of you, unnie.” Sooyoung is patting her shoulder, “I'd stick around and take care of you, but you're an idiot who is worried about someone else so I'll deal with her first.”

 

Irene can hear Sooyoung walk away, her steps sounding farther until there's a click of the doorknob. She manages to call Sooyoung back, just enough to have her pause by the door, her eyes flickering to stay open.

 

“...Thanks,”

 

It's all she can utter before her eyelids fall to curtain her vision, Sooyoung's smile being the last thing she sees. Irene can hear her laughter flutter into her ears.

 

“You're welcome, unnie. I’ll bring in an ice bag for your hand, too.”

 

-

 

Her migraine returns even when it's been a week since the last and her exam is already over.

 

Irene chalks it up to the lack of sleep; despite the end of her practical test, the work load hasn't lessened. It doesn't help that whatever time she's got that isn't dedicated to studying, she's working.

 

Maybe she should let go of that part-time at the convenience store, but how else could she afford Seungwan's time when she has lost one job already?

 

At least her hand has healed up.

 

“She likes you,” Sooyoung says.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Your tiny little escort.”

 

Irene rubs at her temple as soon as she's finished tying her shoelace. The side of her head is pulsating enough to have her groan at the pain. She'll try to catch more sleep tonight; hopefully Seungwan won't mind cutting their conversation short later.

 

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

Sooyoung's scoffing, before she's helping Irene up by the grip on her arm.

 

“Please. She was practically on the verge of tears when you missed last Friday and I had to sit in.”

 

Irene manages to chuckle, blinking away the dizzy haze.

 

“...I feel like you're exaggerating again.” She says, readjusting her hold on her satchel.

 

Sooyoung's shrugging.

 

“I am. But I'm not that far off if you had seen her face, too.”

 

The headache is still present, but the pulsing is less intrusive, a prodding annoyance instead as she twists the knob, locking the entrance to her apartment once Sooyoung steps out, too.

 

Her badge flickers under the hallway's yellow light, strapped against her black belt, right beside her holstered weapon.

 

Sooyoung's patrolling tonight.

 

“I'm sure she was fine,” Irene says, “I'm just another one of her clients, aren't I?”

 

Irene presses the button for the main floor before the elevator doors shut, Sooyoung pausing next to her.

 

“To me, yeah, you're just another one of her clients.” Sooyoung's checking her wristwatch, “But to her? I don't know...”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

Sooyoung's twirling her hand around as if rolling down a list of facts too obvious to be mentioning.

 

“She chose tea over sex, unnie. And that's _only_ because you make tea look like sex.”

 

Irene's never really understood Sooyoung's way of thinking when it comes to abstract analogies.

 

“...What?”

 

Sooyoung only laughs, nudging her. Irene slaps it away, scowling.

 

The elevator dings and the doors slide open for a group of girls still donned in their school uniform. Their chattering is loud enough to make Irene's head sting at the sound, shifting as far as she could into a corner to at least ease a bit of the sound and soothe the pain.

 

Sooyoung's arm bumps against hers, getting squished together.

 

“You look pretty flushed, unnie.”

 

Irene blows a strand of ebony from her face, crossing her arms and wincing at the excited shrieks of the girls next to her. She actually feels rather warm too, now that Sooyoung's mentioned it.

 

“Maybe it's just the heat. It's pretty crowded.”

 

Sooyoung's lifting a hand to her forehead, her skin cool against Irene’s.

 

“I know a fever when I see one,” Sooyoung says, clicking her tongue. “Be careful on the way there, unnie.”

 

Irene pats Sooyoung's hand to urge her to let go, smiling in hopes to ease the concern writing across Sooyoung's eyes.

 

“I will,”

 

“Then again...” Sooyoung's lips curl into a grin, “...Wendy's probably going to take care of you much more thoroughly than _I_ ever could. I told her to keep at it about getting you naked.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes at Sooyoung's playful wink, jabbing her ribs. 

 

“You be careful too, Sooyoung.”

 

She laughs. “Of course.”

 

“Oh, right. Before I forget,” Irene is reaching into her pocket, “I figured I should show you this. It’s not like I keep many secrets, anyway. She left me a note last Saturday.”

 

“Saying what?”

 

Irene passes the folded piece of paper, letting Sooyoung take hold of it.

 

She watches the taller girl's eyes quickly scan over the lines on the paper, before catching them go over the words again, and again, and again. Irene still remembers the words written; it’s hard not to, when it’s easy enough to imagine the teasing smile on Seungwan’s lips.

 

_(You’re lucky I didn’t strip you naked while you were asleep. Those buttons were so annoying to wake up to in the morning, but at least you smelled nice. Thanks for the shirt, by the way. You better have been dreaming about me._

 

_—Your ‘Wan’ and only,  
Seungwannie)_

 

And then Sooyoung is cackling.

 

Irene groans behind a hand, turning away just as Sooyoung buckles over, holding her stomach like she’s experiencing bouts of cramps.

 

“She's – _hahaha,_ I love this!” Sooyoung manages to gasp out between laughter. “C-Can I frame this? No, wait – I'm _definitely_ framing this. With or without your permission.”

 

Irene knows there’s no point in talking reason with Sooyoung; the girl’s a beast when it comes to anything that amused her; she would never let it go.

 

Irene lets obvious regret spill from her lips, shaking her head.

 

“...I should've never shown you.”

 

Sooyoung is slapping her back, a victory grin lining her mouth that Irene has to squint from bright white teeth.

 

“Expect this to be hanging on the wall in my room tomorrow, unnie.”

 

-

 

“Thank you, enjoy your stay.”

 

Irene nods, sending a small smile at the girl who winks at her behind the counter. Irene's seen her enough times to know she's teasing her about her weekly visits with Seungwan. She's the one who's always at the counter every evening, after all.

 

Taking the two keycards, Irene stuffs them into her jean pocket before walking towards the elevator, speaking over her shoulder.

 

“Let her know it's room 277 again, okay?”

 

Irene notes the glint in her eyes, crinkling into moons as if amusement has been drawn along their depths.

 

“Certainly.”

 

Once she leaves, Irene stalls beside a man and a woman, eyeing the way he's holding her against him, her bright red dress a stark contrast to his suit of black and white.

 

Irene steps into the lift after them, pressing the number twenty-seven and keeping her silence as they exchange hushed whispers and giggles. She takes note of the floor they've chosen: twenty-nine.

 

She makes sense of certain words out of their jumbled chatter, recognizing typical flirtatious banter: “sex”, “Friday”, and “pay”.

 

But it's only when he glances up at the glowing numbers, strands of his hair falling over his brows does Irene finally recognize him.

 

She shoves her fists into her pockets, hushes her own surprise (and that bit of anger for Seungwan), and watches him go back to peppering kisses – with a lot of teeth, along the woman's neck.

 

Irene hasn't seen Side-Swept in a while (never this clean looking, either), but from the looks of it, nothing's really changed; he's still biting, but he seems to have found someone new.

 

Hopefully he doesn't dig deep enough into the woman's skin to have her worry about it and have it checked up at three in the morning, too.

 

She averts her gaze to the glowing numbers above once his hands travel lower than the woman's waist.

 

_Twenty-seven,_

 

Irene leaves as soon as the elevator doors open, wincing at the new string of pain prodding her head again. Her eyelids feel heavy, as if they can't keep open for much longer. Irene attempts to comb her hair back, but she could even feel sweat thread into her skin, her forehead warmer than normal.

 

Irene cringes at the sound of the woman's moaning as the doors slide close. She shuts her eyes at the image of how Side-Swept had roamed his hands over her body, how absorbed he had been in exploring every inch of her. He had no reservations in tracing more intimate parts.

 

Irene has no doubt that he's particularly familiar with the female anatomy.

 

Like Seungwan's.

 

She's biting her lip, hoping to quell the sudden thunder in her chest, as well as the throbbing pain still racking her head. It's gotten worse now, and Irene can't tell if it's because it's flared up alongside the rising anger in her throat or the lack of sleep.

 

But just imagining the fact that Seungwan had been with him like that before, being touched and kissed and—

 

Irene lets out a shuddering breath, attempts to ease her pounding heart and a throbbing head, before entering her room.

 

She'll make tea another time.

 

-

 

There's a tranquil touch with Seungwan this Saturday morning that Irene can't grasp.

 

Her head isn't splitting as if to break open anymore, and her skin feels cooler than the heat her fever had made her succumb to.

 

But feeling better isn't what claims Irene's attention like the sight of Seungwan in her button-up, donning a typical sly smile as her fingers crawl along her arm. Seungwan's touches are light but scathing – they're burning into her skin as if to scar and Irene knows she won't be forgetting anytime soon.

 

She remembers how Seungwan had taken care of her last night, how she recognized the medicine bottle on the nightstand – the explanation for Seungwan's sudden disappearance before her mind drifted off to the dark.

 

_(“I won't take long,”)_

 

Irene feared that Seungwan would bump into Side-Swept, but her strength had left her before she could argue, the word “Stay” having remained stuck behind her lips.

 

She was afraid to wake up the next morning without Seungwan beside her.

 

“So what's on the menu this time?” Seungwan asks, her question marring warmth into Irene's shoulder.

 

Irene hums, pressing the button for the elevator and watching the numbers go down slowly. She notes how it starts from floor twenty-nine.

 

“Eggs, bacon, pancakes...” Irene lists, more concerned with the possibility that Side-Swept Hair could be coming down as they speak.

 

Seungwan's nuzzling closer to her, squeezing her arm, the soft strands of auburn tickling Irene's cheek.

 

“Sounds fattening...” she's slithering a hand down from Irene's elbow, to the curves of her wrist. “...I like it.”

 

Seungwan isn't shy to make her fingers slide between hers, their skin lacing together that Irene's more surprised at how normal it feels to be holding her hand. Or maybe it's because she's worried – she can’t quite tell.

 

_(“So no, I won’t let you pay me for making me feel like I’m finally home.”)_

  
   
Irene's heard Seungwan's explanation for rejecting her envelopes, but she had accepted it when Sooyoung visited her instead. Irene's not sure what the difference had been – unless it was because Sooyoung was essentially a “new” client, but regardless, Irene wants to set aside a sum for Seungwan. Just in case.  
 

  
Seulgi did mention the increase in police, and considering Sooyoung is evidence of that, Irene wants to be prepared in case Seungwan needs it.

 

Irene squeezes their grip, pulling her closer when the lift reaches their floor; she finds herself holding her breath.

 

_Tweny-seven,_

 

As soon as the doors open, Irene's scanning for that familiar face, relief filling her chest when she only finds a family with two kids and their luggage taking up half of the space. Irene nods at them when they make room, smiling at the two kids too busy arguing about a toy to notice them enter.

 

“You look a little stiff, Joohyun.” Seungwan's tapping her arm with her free hand, “And not the same kind of stiff where I turn you on.”

 

Irene's gaze swivels to meet Seungwan's, catching her grin, scowling at the giggles that leave the escort's lips.

 

Seungwan's blowing a kiss at her.

 

“I'm kidding, unnie.” She's reaching up, her fingers warm against Irene's forehead. “Maybe it's because you're still sick.”

 

Oh, right.

 

Irene attempts to ease the tinge of worry in Seungwan's expression, how a pout lines her mouth, the crinkles forming between her brows. But Seungwan's clicking her tongue, and before Irene knows it, she's flicking a finger against her forehead. Irene winces at the tint of pain, attempting to rub it away.

 

Irene frowns. “What was _that_ for?”

 

Seungwan's shaking her head, raising a hand and counting her fingers off, one by one.

 

“I have a few issues with you, so listen. First, don't make me worry so much because I don't like worrying – it's tiring. Second, if you're sick, stop doing anything else. Just rest. And third, let me know you're okay. Or better yet, I'll pester you to make sure you are. Got it?”

 

Irene's never heard her sound this troubled before. And commanding. Seungwan's always had a bit of indifference laced in her voice, along with a meek undertone, but Irene can't hear it now.

 

“...You were worried?”

 

Seungwan's snorting, but Irene can see red color the tips of her ears, her amethyst earrings dangling as she turns away.

 

“You're my client. Of course I would be.” Irene can’t help the smile that’s attempting to break out along her lips, giggling when Seungwan huffs and turns away. “…I know you’re hungry Hyunnie, but stop staring. I’m not breakfast.” She pauses, “Unless you want me to be...?”

 

Irene only laughs.

 

-

 

When Seungwan leaves, a fist filled with a jam-stained napkin, Irene’s gaze follows her movement, along with the man she’s replaced for the past several Fridays.

 

His strides are long and calculating, his eyes never leaving Seungwan’s back, even when she’s turned a corner. His steps have quickened to catch up.

 

Irene doesn’t notice she’s gripping her fork and knife too hard until she’s letting them go, rising up from her seat and looking down briefly to spot that her hands have grown white.

 

_(“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?”)_

 

Did Seungwan know he was here?

 

She glances over at Seungwan’s side of the table, her food barely gone, her plate still filled with pancakes and eggs.

 

But what has Irene sprinting past surprised patrons and several tables is the missing knife she remembers Seungwan to have used to spread her butter.

 

Irene rushes towards the elevator, but the numbers are already going up, Seungwan nowhere to be found. She’s twisting around before running to the stairs, shoving the door open. She can feel her breaths grow ragged, legs making lunges to skip and climb up quicker; Irene still remembers his floor number.

 

Tweny-nine.

 

She pauses on the twelfth floor, then on the fifteenth, and then on the twenty-first. But Irene faintly hears the elevator stop, the slow hum of metal doors sliding open, filling her ears along with her gasps for air.

 

Despite the blaze in her legs and the numbness in her arms, Irene checks to see if Seungwan has chosen to stop on this floor – or if she had been in the elevator at all. She’s stumbling past the door, a hand gliding along the walls of the hallway to steady her weight, dragging her feet across the carpet floor.

 

Irene grunts to turn a corner, coughing at the dryness in her throat and the heavy pressure in her chest, until she’s raising her head.

 

And then she sees her.

 

What boils in Irene's blood far exceeds the logic in her head, ripping wires of rationale off to replace them with just red.

 

Red,

 

Red,

 

Red.

 

There's so much red.

 

From a distance, she sees the way Seungwan struggles in his grip, attempting to wriggle him off. But he's persistent and invasive and Irene can feel herself snap.

 

Her lungs are already squeezing to their limits, fire burning her throat, ragged gasps leaving her lips. Her legs have grown tired and she's already barely able to stand, but she has to move.

 

Move,

 

Move,

 

 _Move_.

 

Irene flares at the sight of his hand crawling up Seungwan's shirt, the skin on her stomach streaked with lines of pink at the pressure of his nails.

 

A snarl leaves her throat then, her ears ringing at the image. There's no exhaustion in her legs anymore, the weights having slipped off at Seungwan's shut eyes, his mouth biting into her neck.

 

Seungwan's name is on the tip of her tongue, but she's swallowing it back when the elevator doors begin to close. She needs to make it.

 

_Run._

 

Irene ignores the titan grip around her lungs and sprints, not caring about the fact that her ribcage might just burst open along with her pounding heart.

 

But the doors are closing in, their shoulders disappearing behind steel walls and Seungwan's about to fade from her view—

 

Irene reaches out, shooting a hand between silver doors just as it was about to close, stumbling to a stop against the elevator. She's slumping against the steel, attempting to regain her balance on shaking legs, as she watches the doors slide back open, relief flowing through her limbs and her trembling heart.

 

When she sees Seungwan stare at her as if shock was embedded into her eyes, Irene musters up a smile, ignoring the fire in her lungs.

 

She'll worry about catching her breath, later. All that matters is that Seungwan's okay.

 

Now she'll just have to make up some excuse so they could both leave without riling him up. She can't have him be suspicious of their connection and grow hostility towards either of them.

 

“There you are!”

 

Irene finds peace when Seungwan returns to her arms.

 

-

 

“You sure you're not going to take a shower? You _did_ pay for this room, after all.”

 

Irene waves her hand, attempting to shoo Seungwan off. They're back in their hotel room because she still needs to get her things, but Seungwan's complaining about the bathroom.

 

Irene's more concerned about the fact that Side-Swept has already met with Seungwan in private to care about showering. They were in an elevator. Alone. And he was _touching_ her.

 

She hides the snarl threatening to break through her throat, coughing into a hand.

 

“...I'm good. You can use it.”

 

Her lips feel chapped, her voice coming out more hoarse than she'd like. She hopes Seungwan can't read the nerves shaking in her fingers, rubbing her temple and shutting her eyes so that it'd stave off the picture of him holding Seungwan.

 

“If you insist.” Seungwan's shrugging, a grin lighting up her lips. “Care to join me? We can take a long, hot, steamy, shower together. You know, for the 'Girlfriend Experience'.”

 

Irene frowns, raking a hand through her hair. It _does_ sound nice to clean up a bit; running up the flight of stairs wasn't all that kind to her; she could still feel sweat drape her skin.

 

But she doesn't have an extra pair of clothing. It'd be worse to have to slip the same ones back on again. She's not about to take the ones she lent Seungwan, either.

 

“I'll just shower when I get home.”

 

Seungwan's pouting at her. “You're no fun.”

 

Confusion wells up her mind even when Seungwan disappears behind the bathroom door, leaving a sliver open just enough to get an idea of what's happening inside.

 

She hurries to a stand when she spots Seungwan begin to undress between the space that isn't closed.

 

“You should lock this,”

 

Irene's gripping the knob, ignoring the sound of clothes dropping to the floor. She's about to seal the opening completely when Seungwan's hand stops the door. From where she is, Irene could only see skin along Seungwan's arm and shoulder.

 

She tries to ignore Seungwan's bra that already litters the bathroom floor.

 

“Why?” Seungwan's question is dancing with a playfulness Irene's grown accustomed to hearing, “It's not like you'll do anything to me, right?”

 

She's teasing and Irene knows it. But it still doesn't prepare her for Seungwan's face popping in a second later, Irene's gaze immediately locking with the television far to her right as soon as she sees a sliver of skin belonging to Seungwan's chest.

 

Irene's thankful that Seungwan's modest enough to cover them with her free arm, but still.

 

“You're cute when you're shy, Hyunnie.” Seungwan's voice is dripping with amusement, “But I don't like it when you won't look at me.”

 

Irene stiffens at Seungwan's touch, how her fingers cradle her chin, ushering her to turn her head. She obeys, but only so she could get away with scrutinizing the marks that are left on Seungwan's skin.

 

There’s another snarl climbing her throat, winding up at the sight of pink indents coloring the slopes of Seungwan's neck and shoulder.

 

“You're staring, Joohyun.” Her gaze snaps back up to meet Seungwan's, “You even look a little worried,” Seungwan's smiling at her, but without the sly curve that normally paints her lips. “What's the matter?”

 

There’s a lot that’s bothering her, multiple questions thrumming across her tongue.

 

But she can’t bring herself to ask all of them when she doesn’t want to hear the answers to most: “Where else did he touch you?” “Why do you keep going back to him?” and “Can’t you see I care?” But it’d prove she knows too much, and Irene would rather keep secrets if it meant keeping Seungwan close.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

Seungwan's cocking her head, brows crinkling, the strands of auburn draping over her shoulders and collarbone. Irene wants to cover the marks up, erase the evidence that he had touched Seungwan, but—

 

“Joohyun?”

 

She raises a hand, attempting to flit her fingers over the pink indents, ease away the irritation on Seungwan's skin, but Irene grips the door instead.

 

“My reservation ends at eleven,” Irene chuckles at Seungwan's brows furrowing further, “Don't take too long.”

 

She lets go of the door, twisting around and grabbing her bag, leaving just so Seungwan can't probe anymore. Unless she actually bothers to follow after her – which Irene hopes won't be the case.

 

Seungwan's no rookie to being touched by men – if anything, _she's_ the one blowing things out of proportion. It’s Seungwan's _job_. But to think Side-Swept still manages to get to Seungwan even when she's present; why didn't Seungwan just stay with her instead?

 

Irene sighs, feeling her eyes weigh heavy at questions that won't stop growing, raking a hand through her hair at the sound of the shower running; though she spots the bathroom door still slightly ajar.

 

Irene's just thankful the bites aren't deep enough to worry over.

 

-

 

When she brings Seungwan home, she expects the interrogation, but not quite like this.

 

“Where's Seungwan?”

 

“Waiting for you in your room,”

 

“Why is she in my room?”

 

Sooyoung's Cheshire smile has Irene frowning, suspicion beginning to swirl in her head.

 

“Because I told her to.” Sooyoung's stretching her hand out, staring at her green tinted nails. “But that's not what's important, unnie.”

 

Irene can feel the skin between her brows crinkle, leaning back against the kitchen countertop. She'll deal with the sliced carrots later.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Sooyoung's shifting to a stand, the chair creaking at her movement. Sooyoung's approaching her with steps too slow to not be calculated, even if her hands are busy tracing the edges of her seat, eyes locked onto the wooden furniture.

 

Irene stiffens when Sooyoung's reaching out around her back, plucking out circles of metal that are signature to her working profession. She can hear the clinks it makes as it dangles between Sooyoung's fingers.

 

“You've got guts for bringing an escort in when a cop is present, unnie.” Sooyoung's grinning, twirling her handcuffs. “It's like shoving a bucket of chicken in front of my face. Except I can't eat her.” Her tongue is sliding along her lips, making Irene pale at the implication. “...Or can I?”

 

Irene is dragging Sooyoung away from her bedroom door to make sure Seungwan's completely out of earshot, hissing into the Giant's ear and ignoring the laughter eager to burst from Sooyoung's mouth; she could see her lips tremor with giggles.

 

“Don't even try, Sooyoung.” Irene's growling before she could hold it in, “Just be quiet and don't freak her out.”

 

“Puh-lease,” Sooyoung's scoffing, “I'd rather eat pieces of chicken than the parts between someone's legs.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes at the imagery, cringing at Sooyoung's obnoxious slurping.

 

“Just behave, okay?”

 

“Why did you bring her here, anyway?” Sooyoung's elbowing her ribs, “I doubt it's to catch up on breakfast.”

 

The Giant's stare is piercing enough to have Irene shift her gaze towards the dark brown stain still loitering her apartment's ceiling. It's a lot more fascinating to look at than meeting Sooyoung's undivided scrutiny.

 

Irene sighs, combing a hand through her hair. Sooyoung's always been sharp with her senses; it comes as no surprise that the taller girl would already cut through her poor excuse.

 

She keeps her voice low, just to make sure Seungwan can't hear her behind her bedroom's door.

 

“I saw him – the guy I replaced,” Irene watches Sooyoung's brows narrow, “he was there and he found Seungwan. I know she can handle herself,” she ignores Sooyoung's rolling eyes, “but I can't trust him to not follow her home.”

 

Sooyoung hums.

 

“So you just risked having him follow _you_ home?”

 

“Maybe. I took the longer route to get here.”

 

Sooyoung's slapping a hand to her face, groaning, as if exhausted at their conversation, before she's suddenly moving down, inching closer towards her.

 

Irene frowns at their proximity.

 

“...What?”

 

She isn't prepared to be reeling back from a hard flick against her forehead. Irene grunts at how much it stings, not missing the sound of Sooyoung clicking her tongue.

 

“You're an idiot.” Sooyoung's crossing her arms, “Didn't I tell you _not_ to get into any sort of trouble?”

 

Irene attempts to recall words of advice, but nothing comes to mind, especially not with the pain still stinging her forehead. She continues to rub at it, to help ease away the indent that nestles there.

 

“...No?”

 

“Well, _now_ I'm telling you.” Sooyoung's tapping her foot, “Don't start picking up other people's problems. You have your own to deal with.”

 

Irene's gaze whips back up to meet Sooyoung's, brows crinkling, biting the inside of her cheek.

 

“ _I'm_ the one who took his time,” she says, “I can't just ignore the possibility that he'd—”

 

“Uh, yes, you can.”

 

Irene is about to argue, a burst of emotion crawling up her throat, but Sooyoung beats her to it.

 

She pauses at Sooyoung's hand being shoved right in front of her face.

 

“Let's be clear, unnie. I care about you more than I'll ever care about your tiny little escort. She's a nice girl, sure, but at the end of the day, she's not my best friend. _You_ are.”

 

Irene bites back her tongue, shifting back so she could breathe in air instead of Sooyoung's giant hand.

 

“Maybe I'm just worried and he isn't dangerous at all. But unnie,” Irene feels Sooyoung pat her shoulder, squeezing. “Don't go trying to find out if it's true.”

 

She watches her step back, a grin plastering her face, as if they didn't just sort-of argue.

 

Irene coughs at the sudden slap to her back, a burst of air escaping her lungs along with the sound of Sooyoung's laughter drilling into her ears.

 

“Now shoo, unnie. I think you've made her wait long enough.”

 

She watches Sooyoung stare at her with a grin on her lips, that signature playfulness in her expression returning full force. Irene makes sure to remember what the taller girl has said, squeezing Sooyoung’s arm when she passes her to reach her bedroom’s door.

 

“I’ll be careful, so don’t worry too much. And Sooyoung, will you stop smiling like that? It’s getting a bit creepy—”

 

Irene’s chuckles at Sooyoung’s scoffing doesn’t last long.

 

Not when she turns the knob open, mouth immediately dropping at the sight of Seungwan on her bed, donned in her lingerie; her open button-up a mocking defense that shields nothing.

 

And where did her pants go?

 

But as soon as Seungwan shifts her body like seduction has lined the movements in her limbs, Irene finds herself bolted to the floor. Her senses have heightened to follow Seungwan – and without her permission.

 

“…Like what you see?”

 

Irene doesn’t know how to answer that.

 

But what she _does_ know are the fine details of Seungwan’s lips that curve to smile, the slow sliding of her legs pressing against each other, and her hand trailing towards the band of her underwear and tugging it down—

 

Irene’s limbs jolt awake, eyes widening at what might just happen, feet lifting from the floor and panic kicking her into a stumbling rush as pathetic as the stream of words that leave her lips. 

 

“W-Wait, stop—!”

 

Seungwan has her tied around her finger.

 

Irene realizes this minutes later, when Seungwan traps her between her legs and forces her to carry her around, all the while trying to get the truth out of her. How short must her leash be to never be prepared for anything Seungwan throws her way?

 

But as she watches Seungwan chat with Sooyoung about music and idol groups as they dry the dishes she’s washed, Irene finds that she’s okay with that.

 

_(“So why would you keep going back to a guy who bites so hard that—”)_

 

Even if later that evening, she has to deal with spilling a secret she’s never meant to share in the first place.

 

-

 

Joohyun's scent is a shield Wendy never wants to leave without.

 

“Here,” Joohyun's lending her a bundle of warmth, folded neatly like it was never touched.

 

Wendy cradles it into her arms, spreading it open and watching the soft purple drop to pool above her feet, the length long enough to snuggle in.

 

It's a blanket.

 

“In case you're feeling cold,” Joohyun says, gesturing to her obvious lack of apparels. “Unless you want to wear the clothes I've lent you before?”

 

Wendy shakes her head, settling into the warmth of Joohyun's purple blanket, a soft curtain over her, skin snuggled in only her bra and underwear.

 

She hasn't interrogated Joohyun just yet, but that's only because the client bee-lined straight to her bedroom to throw her a blanket over her seemingly lack of modesty when Wendy rejected the clothes she's already worn once before.

 

“Are you really not going to wear anything more?” Joohyun's voice curls into her ears like a melody, “You've borrowed from me before, so I don't see why you won't wear these again at least.” 

 

She's lifting up the same pair of folded grey sweatpants and red-plaid button-up Wendy’s gotten used to wearing.

 

They were lovely to wiggle into. No doubt there.

 

It helps plenty when all that welcomes her skin is the shiver of knowledge knowing that they belong to Joohyun. But Wendy wants to actually _feel_ Joohyun; when arms are wrapped around each other at night and they’re pressed together like a pair of buttons seemingly not misplaced.

 

It’s the closest she'll ever get to having the skin on her body touch Joohyun without sex.

 

Wendy grins at her, cozying up at the end of the couch, legs pulled up to fold beside her so she's cocooned in the safety of sweet lavender. She lays her temple against the arm of the sofa, all too comfortable in a home that she can't call her own.

 

“It’s okay,” Wendy brings the blanket up, curling into it, muffling her voice. “Besides, I’m used to wearing nothing.”

 

Wendy's more than satisfied with her own physique. It's part of the reason why she has no qualms with being an escort. Less clothing just feels more freeing; her skin could breathe easier, and sleep would never be too far behind.

 

Not that she hates wearing clothes. Wendy just loves being comfortable in her own skin.

 

Joohyun's humming, shelving the clothes under her arm, combing a hand through her hair, ebony tresses cascading over the slopes of her ears and shoulders.

 

How rude of her.

 

“As long as you’re comfortable.”

 

Joohyun's turning away, placing the plaid and pants off to the side on a stool chair.

 

Wendy watches her come back, taking her glasses with her, settling down at the center of the carpet floor, opening up textbooks and notes she had organized earlier. She loves this rare moment of watching her client sift through her work; it's different from the atmosphere in a hotel room.

 

“Oh Hyunnie,” Wendy pokes a leg out from under the blanket, tapping her foot against Joohyun's arm. “We both know what’ll comfort me most. And that’s you going naked.”

 

Joohyun's snort mixes with Joy's obnoxious snickering, even when the Giant's eyes are glued to the television.

 

Wendy's still surprised at the girl's silence; Joy didn't look the type to be much of a listener. Or maybe she was just finding their conversation to be that interesting to not want to interrupt.

 

“So I've heard.”

 

“And to think you still won't do anything about it,” Wendy pouts, mock-hurt spilling her lips. “Maybe I should just stay in Joy's room tonight and get a little more appreciation.”

 

Wendy has learned in the short amount of time she's spent with Joy that the Giant never misses a beat. What a partner in crime.

 

“You should because unlike Joohyun unnie, I actually know what subject I should be studying up on when there's a lady with me in bed.”

 

Wendy giggles at the reference, remembering the fourth night they spent together – and the first time she fell asleep and stayed in Joohyun's hotel room. Joohyun sure loves letting Joy in on their adventures – or lack thereof.

 

A frown begins to dip into the lines of Joohyun's lips.

 

“No, my room is cleaner.”

 

“I'm not exactly looking to be clean when I prefer getting dirty, Joohyun.” Wendy giggles at Joohyun's rolling eyes, “Unless you meant making a mess in your room together, then...”

 

She lets her words taper off, allows enough time for Joohyun's head to process the implication, but what she gets instead is so typical of her client that Wendy isn't all that surprised anymore. But it doesn't get any less endearing.

 

“I'll be too busy making a mess of my notes out here, so...”

 

How cute.

 

“So you want me to wait for you in your room and warm up the bed a little?” Wendy muses, unable to keep from teasing the older woman. “I'd love to.”

 

Joohyun looks relieved, the tension on her lips untangling, a small smile replacing it instead.

 

Wendy could feel affection rise up in her stomach, coiling around her throat, swallowing away whatever snarky remarks are stored on autoplay.

 

“Then let me just go through these first and I'll come join you later, okay?”

 

Wendy wonders just how naïve Joohyun could be to not understand motives behind every word. She's gone through too many clients to not know what each implication meant; they were great in dodging police and perfect in discerning potential new clients from those who weren't.

 

If Wendy knew her heart would feel like it'd implode any second Joohyun musters up a smile her way, she would never have bothered scheduling anymore appointments with her.

 

Wendy feels heat flush her cheeks, syllables clamoring out of her mouth like a clustered mess. She attempts to hide them behind the sheet of soft purple, muffling her timid squeak.

 

“…Okay.”

 

“Oh, _ick._ You two make me sick,” Joy is grumbling, eyes rolling, hands crumpling the bag of chips. “Just have sex already so I can breathe in air instead of bed-rocking tension.”

 

Wendy catches Joohyun's head snap up not a second later, eyes widening.

 

“...Rocking?”

 

Oh god. There’s a giddy squeal waiting to burst from her throat.

 

Joy is standing, waving a hand, stepping out of the living room and clutching a knob to a door that Wendy could only assume leads to her respective room.

 

“Just keep it quiet, please. I need my beauty sleep.”

 

Wendy has no more words when Joy winks her way, those wiggling eyebrows making a signature return.

 

It's only when Joy's door clicks shut and silence takes up the air they breathe in does Wendy realize she's alone with Joohyun for another night.

 

“Go sleep,” Joohyun's patting Wendy’s leg, her eyes busy with the notes in her other hand. “I'll be there soon.”

 

Something is eating up at Wendy's chest though, crunching emotions and churning warmth that isn't the lust she's already recognized to have for Joohyun. This one is softer; like a touch of clouds, lazy Sunday mornings, and that sun-kissed support.

 

She should be taking this opportunity to ask Joohyun about what she meant:

 

_(“So why would you keep going back to a guy who bites so hard that—”)_

 

But there’s something in the air that she doesn’t want to dismiss, the atmosphere thick with a tranquility from the comfort of just knowing they’re together, just like this, like it’s… _normal._

 

She doesn’t want to ruin it.

 

Wendy is slow when she stands, eyes stuck to Joohyun's side profile of a high-bridged nose, smooth slopes of lips, and the planes of her cheek. She notes the cute ear peeking out between strands of ebony, recalling how Joohyun had curled some behind just moments before, her circle-rimmed glasses sitting comfortably atop her nose.

 

She’ll interrogate Joohyun tomorrow.

 

Watching Joohyun right at this moment has made the gears in her limbs function on their own, her knees bending, the blanket pooling over her feet, her hands still clutching to the shield over her figure.

 

Wendy doesn't realize she has settled beside Joohyun until she's kissing her cheek, that fleeting warmth tickling her lips. Joohyun’s skin is as soft as it appears to be.

 

She doesn’t mean to linger, but once her eyes open, (since when did they even close?) she’s retreating, feeling Joohyun’s mouth attempt to move. But no sound comes out.

 

Wendy stands before Joohyun could react – before she could have time to form words that Wendy isn’t prepared to hear. Wendy’s heart is ramming her ribcage, her eardrums feeling like they'd burst out any moment. She pretends she isn't running away, her steps heading straight for Joohyun's room.

 

This kiss was nothing like the chaste peck she had given Joohyun on their fourth night together, when the circle glasses had been in her hands.

 

This one held her heart and she’s not sure if Joohyun had felt it, too. Did she even _want_ to know?

 

“...Seungwan?”

 

Joohyun sounds lost, curious, confused, surprised – everything Wendy is feeling, a hurricane mess tearing her stomach apart.

 

She doesn't know what came over her either, just that it makes her flush from her head down to the tips of her toes, painting her skin in pink she'd rather not show Joohyun.

 

Maybe she should've worn Joohyun's clothes after all.

 

Wendy hides behind Joohyun's door, clicking it shut to a muted question she has no answer to.

 

She hopes that when Joohyun comes to settle in bed next to her, she won't hear how loud her heart is screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’d I tell you? Nothing to worry about with Irene. I’m happy to finally show her perspective on things.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update. Until next time.


	5. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bed is too big, too empty, too cold – not even the minutes counting in blaring red light can convince the curtains to fall over her eyes.

The bed is too big, too empty, too cold – not even the minutes counting in blaring red light can convince the curtains to fall over her eyes.

 

Wendy can't sleep. It doesn't help that Joohyun hasn't come in, yet.

 

Slipping out of the covers, she's careful letting her feet pad across the floor, thankful that it's mostly made up of carpet, and peeks her head through the door.

 

It's relatively dark in the living room, save for the tiny lamp lighting up a corner of the apartment, the edges of yellow-orange draping over the figure laid out on the couch.

 

Wendy shuffles closer, dragging the blanket with her that's looped snug over her shoulders. She bends down to see that Joohyun's fallen asleep with her notes dangling in her hand, a few pages scattered over the floor.

 

Gathering the sheets of scribbled terms and diagrams, Wendy sets them aside, careful when pulling the notes still cradled in Joohyun's loose grip.

 

Her client's fingers fall limp when they're empty, reaching out to entwine their skin together because she knows Joohyun can't feel her.

 

She should go back and sleep, fall in slumber in the safe haven of Joohyun's room, have the bed all to herself, and let Joohyun’s scent be her lullaby. But why settle for mere wisps of vanilla when she could hold the real thing – have Joohyun's warmth physically melt into her?

 

So she takes her chance, stealing a kiss on Joohyun's forehead and lets her lips tickle her awake.

 

“...Hey,” Wendy giggles when she feels Joohyun's brows crinkle against her mouth. “You awake, Hyunnie?”

 

She pulls away as soon as Joohyun groans, watching her client rub her eyes. Joohyun's voice is thick with sleep, a low hum that has Wendy's spine trembling, curling deeper into the blanket.

 

“...I am _now._ ”

 

Wendy chuckles, before tapping Joohyun's forehead, pretending she didn't just claim the skin there.

 

“Scoot over,”

 

Joohyun's obedient, shifting until she's sinking against the back of the couch. Wendy doesn't waste time sliding in next to her, grinning when Joohyun offers her arm as a pillow; just like all the other times they've slept together before.

 

“...Don't you want the bed?” Joohyun says, her eyes beginning to droop.

 

Wendy makes sure the blanket shields them both, lifting it to have them snuggle in its heat. She wiggles her legs until they're tangled with Joohyun's, her skin warming up against hers, the client's pants having slid up to the knees at her meddling.

 

“I do,” Wendy mumbles into Joohyun's neck, “but I want you more.”

 

Joohyun's small scoff has Wendy grinning, feeling affection shoot up in her chest when her client wraps an arm around her.

 

Wendy hums, grateful for the extra warmth, wondering if Joohyun recognizes that she's hugging mostly skin.

 

Suddenly Wendy loves sleeping on couches.

_(“So why would you keep going back to a guy who bites so hard that—“)_

 

“...How do you know about him?” Wendy asks, knowing that exhaustion could be as good as drinks for sober thoughts.

 

Joohyun's not quick to respond, leaving Wendy to think she's fallen asleep until her client's muttering against her scalp.

 

“...I see him at work,”

 

That's not enough to know that he hurts her though, so she attempts to probe again, curling hands behind Joohyun's back.

 

But Joohyun beats her to it.

 

“...Why did you kiss me?”

 

Wendy hopes Joohyun’s only referring to the one on the cheek and not the forehead kiss, too.

 

She can't see Joohyun’s face, can't discern her voice – she can't tell if Joohyun's smiling, or angry, or curious, or confused; there's nothing to hear but a soft murmur of a question she still has no answer to.

 

“I didn't know we were playing twenty questions,” Wendy smiles against Joohyun's skin, “Girlfriend Experience, Hyunnie. It was a goodnight kiss.” Her reflexes haven't dulled yet, excuses piling up like a loaded gun. “What, did you think it was something else?”

 

Wendy's thankful to be hiding against Joohyun's neck, just in case there's a look of disgust or something worse painting along Joohyun's face.

 

Joohyun's low hum tickles her eyelids.

 

“...I don't know.”

 

It's not what Wendy expects. It's more honest than she's accustomed to hearing, other than a horny man's proclamation of hunger over her touches.

 

Wendy can feel the way Joohyun's loosening the grip on her back, and hurries to clutch her hand, encourage her fingers to stay there against her skin.

 

“I'm going to fall off this couch if you don't hold onto me,” Wendy's letting her lips write words on Joohyun's neck, more excuses spilling out. “Aren't you worried I might get hurt?”

 

It means more than a simple fall to the floor, but Wendy can't help but allude to Joohyun's silent protection – it's too obvious not to be; they're teetering on a tight rope meant for one.

 

“I might squish you. There's barely any space, so...”

 

Wendy grips Joohyun's hand tighter, keeping her right where she should be.

 

“That's the point, Hyunnie.”

 

Joohyun's answer is a light pinch to her back, yelping at the touch. Wendy can't really move though when she's stuck in Joohyun's arms, her hold having grown stronger, as if unwilling to let go. She pretends that doesn't make her giddy.

 

“To think you don’t even call me ‘unnie’.”

 

Wendy laughs, squeaking under another pinch.

 

When the quiet settles and Wendy gets accustomed to Joohyun's secure embrace, no longer squeezing her skin, she can't help but pester Joohyun again, just so tonight will last a little longer.

 

“Aren't you going to kiss me goodnight?”

 

Joohyun's mumbling, sleep sounding not too far away.

 

“...No? I never do...”

 

Wendy rubs Joohyun's back in circles, grinning at the slumber fog in Joohyun's voice.

 

“It's never too late to start now.”

 

She's joking, of course. It's always been fun to tease Joohyun; the older woman was prone to looking adorable when embarrassed. Wendy just wonders how it'd be like to feel it seep through, feel Joohyun's embarrassment against her skin.

 

But then Joohyun's shifting, moving back. Wendy becomes keenly aware of a soft touch to her scalp.

 

Wendy's eyes widen on reflex, jerking back just as Joohyun bends lower so her lips graze Wendy's forehead.

 

Joohyun frowns. “Are you taking it back?”

 

It's not a question she thought Joohyun would _ever_ ask.

 

Wendy shakes her head, pulling the blanket to her mouth, like the material could muffle the surprise (and this suffocating wave of affection) pouring out of her quivering lips.

 

“No...I just – I didn't think you actually _would_...” She's clutching for excuses to her stuttering, but nothing but the truth slips out. “...You make it sound so _simple._ ”

 

Oh god she sounds like a mess. Pathetic.

 

It's supposed to be the other way around.

 

“Because it is.”

 

The tiny curl along the corners of Joohyun’s lips – that looks too much like a smirk, has Wendy flaring right down to the tips of her toes, attempting to cool them off with a light kick to Joohyun's legs.

 

Joohyun's giggling before leaning in again, pressing a kiss to the tip of Wendy's nose, her lips a warm embrace against her skin.

 

It was a childish touch – so innocent and naïve even, a speck of fairytale so associated with Joohyun that it makes Wendy believe in things like happily ever after.

 

Wendy wonders if Joohyun can feel how hot she's become; she doesn't need to look in the mirror to know she's flushed red.

 

Joohyun pulls her in, scarring words with her lips on Wendy's scalp, flaring up at ghost kisses.

 

“...Goodnight, Seungwan.”

 

Joohyun's whisper makes Wendy shrivel deeper into the blanket, attempting to hide the pink on her cheeks, muttering beneath her breath.

 

“...Goodnight.”

 

Dreams of cuddling in blankets too big, in a bed too small, for a hug too warm – none of them compares to a worn-out couch, with a blanket too thin, and a hug that’s _still_ too warm. Joohyun's arms aren't smothering, even if there's no space in between, a protection Wendy doesn't need.

 

Wendy holds on tighter and hopes even in her sleep, she doesn’t let go.

 

-

 

Wendy doesn't want to wake up.

 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

 

But of course she wakes up.

 

Wendy groans at the sound, squirming in warmth too comfortable to even consider leaving. She snuggles deeper in hopes that maybe it'd make whatever _that_ is, go away.

 

But it's still there.

 

“Was the bed too big for you two that you wanted something even smaller?”

 

Wendy whines at the poke on her back, too drowsy to bother looking when she attempts to swat it away, wherever it is.

 

Poke.

 

Poke.

 

Poke.

 

Wendy groans again, frustrated at her hand for missing the damn thing every single time, as well as the noise that just won't leave her _alone._

 

“Geez, you're like a koala glued to a tree.” Wendy yelps at a pinch to her side, “I was right, you _are_ clingy.”

 

It takes that signature smug rise and dip in voice for Wendy to recognize the annoying disturbance.

 

Her eyes blink the sleep-haze away, pulling back just enough to realize she's been cuddling Joohyun. Usually it doesn't bother Wendy – she'd even take advantage of the fact that her client is still asleep and snuggle closer to catch a few more z's.

 

But Joy's poor attempt at muffling her giggles is _distracting_ and takes away every private silence Wendy could have for herself.

 

“...What time is it?”

 

“Time for Joohyun-unnie to wake up, actually.” Joy is stabbing her back again with an annoying finger, “But I'll give her a few more minutes, because why not.”

 

Wendy manages to slap away Joy's hand, twisting around carefully, shifting her legs from Joohyun's tangled mess (though that was a struggle in itself – it’s not like Wendy _wants_ to leave), and sliding off the couch without disturbing her client's peaceful sleep.

 

Joy is chuckling but Wendy pretends not to hear it, slipping the blanket up to cover Joohyun better, a smile writing along her lips at Joohyun's instinctive nuzzling. She doesn't realize she's staring longer than she should until Joy is pinching her side again, making Wendy whip around to whack it off.

 

“You are _worse_ than an alarm clock,” Wendy says, scowling, rubbing the itch away.

 

“And you aren't being a very good escort when you look like you want more than just sex from her.” Joy is grinning, shrugging her shoulders, nodding her head over to the kitchen. “Want some bacon? I already made some.”

 

Wendy normally has a sharp sense when it comes to food; it helps that the kitchen still remains her number one expertise. But Joy's off-hand comment punctures her stomach more than the sweet scent of breakfast, filling her whole with something much more frightening – and a lot more truer than her love for food.

 

As if the circuits in her limbs have twisted into overdrive, Wendy's stalking off to rummage through her things, yanking her fur coat off the coat rack, and clutching her purse like a timer in her heart would blow if she stayed any longer; nails digging into her precious Lana Marks.

 

“Woah, there. Hold on.” Joy's titan-grip around her wrist keeps her feet chained, “ _I'm_ the one who should be hurrying out the door because I've got work in ten minutes. Be a sweetheart and make sure Joohyun-unnie wakes up before eleven.” Wendy’s about to sputter protest, but Joy's already halfway out the door by the time she has her fur coat over her shoulders. “And you better finish that bacon!”

 

It's only when the door clicks shut does Wendy note she's been forced to stay and confront her personal issue regarding Joohyun – after being _called out_ on it. Watching the way Joohyun’s chest rises and falls, Wendy hates how much Joy is right.

 

She’s aware that she hasn't been keeping business walls up and running. Rejecting Joohyun's payments were already more than enough of an indication of her poor judgment. Pretending she doesn't care about Joohyun more than she should is easy; but to have an outsider barrel it across like a slap to the face – Wendy hates being read so accurately.

 

Slithering out of her coat, placing her items back on the rack and stool chair, Wendy bends down to curl a loose strand from Joohyun's face. The softness of her skin burns the tips of Wendy's fingers, etching warmth and seeping into her bones like Joohyun was making her mark; it leaves Wendy shuddering.

 

And Joohyun wasn't even _kissing_ her.

 

Wendy stands before Joohyun's breathing could pull her in, opting to instead roam the apartment; explore and learn a little bit more about the duo who has wormed their way into her heart. Even _if_ one of them is a giant annoying piece of work and the other is a charming and _just-as-annoying_ piece of eye candy.

 

She grabs a slice of bacon off the prepared plate made for two, spotting a third dish already in the sink. The meat is juicy in her mouth, feeling oil squeeze between her teeth, savoring the delicate mix of crispy edges and soft middles.

 

Joy wasn't kidding when she said they liked to keep the apartment warm. Wendy's tempted to strip her lace bra and panty off and walk around naked.

 

Glancing back towards Joohyun still snuggled deep under the covers, Wendy chuckles at the thought of surprising her awake, again.

 

As much as it would be fun to greet Joohyun a “Good morning,” in her birthday suit, Wendy would much rather keep that for later; even if Joohyun may never do more than hold her hand.

 

Wendy tries not to feel bothered by it, eyes scouring for something else to look at, and finding Joy's bedroom door slightly ajar.

 

Considering that Joohyun's still busy slumbering, and Joy's already out of the apartment, Wendy figures it'd be okay. A little peek won't hurt.

 

Tip-toeing towards the open door, Wendy lets her eyes roam the small room; surprise enveloping her at the sight of organized papers, a tidied bed, and a desk with items settled in lines of perfection.

 

Joy's room screamed, “Neat-Freak.” Wendy couldn't believe it.

 

But what bothers her more than the obvious obsession for cleanliness is the pair of handcuffs and a badge on her bedside table.

 

With various warning sirens screaming in her head, Wendy grabs the offending golden plate and cold dangling silver.

 

Amidst the screaming repetition of, “Get out” bouncing against the walls in her brain, her mind is busy whirring away at her mistake.

 

She'd only screened Joohyun to check on whether she was law enforcement or something more dangerous, but she had never considered looking into Joy. Wendy had scratched her off under the comfortable assumption that Joohyun was cleared and thus, so was Joy. It helped that she had already spent a night alone with Joy (as spontaneous as it was) and nothing like an arrest had occurred.

 

Wendy's fingers rattle, hurrying to drop the items back on the desk, hoping that it'd deter any hints that they had been touched, and slips out of the room.

 

She'd like to keep her records clean; she hasn't done escort services for two years just to get caught when she already knows better.

 

“Idiot. Idiot.”

 

Wendy’s pacing, biting her thumb, thoughts spinning constantly in her head.

 

If Joy's a cop, then why hasn't she arrested her yet? And didn't Joy mention that she was heading to work? Judging from the neat-sleek appearance of her room, Joy wouldn't be sloppy enough to leave her equipment behind.

 

She's too clever. If anything, leaving them behind and in the open, makes it seem all the more _planned._

 

“Seungwan? What are you doing?”

 

Wendy almost trips, feet stumbling to balance, whipping around to see Joohyun rubbing at her eyes, sitting up on the sofa.

 

She has two options:

 

Pretend she wasn't snooping around, play ignorance to the red warning cues in Joy's room, and skitter around the topic of her being part of the law enforcement as subtly as she can. At least then she'd be able to do her own private investigation on Joy without needing to worry about Joohyun knowing she's aware of it.

 

Then again, she could interrogate Joohyun about everything: Joy, The Biter – but if Joohyun tells Joy about her knowledge of it, Wendy can't predict what Joy will do.

 

What if the only reason Joy's not arresting her is because she thinks she doesn't know?

 

“Seungwan?”

 

Wendy jolts at a touch on her elbow, looking up to find Joohyun staring at her, their proximity so close that Wendy can't believe she missed Joohyun's approach.

 

“Nothing,” she glances to make sure Joy's room looks untouched, “just used the bathroom.”

 

Wendy reaches for Joohyun's hand still grasping her arm, locking their fingers together and smiling at Joohyun's arched brow.

 

She tugs her towards the kitchen. “Hungry? Joy made us breakfast.”

 

The feeling of nervous wings fluttering in her stomach is as distracting as Joohyun's grip tightening between their hands.

 

“That's awfully kind of her.” Joohyun says, “Maybe because you're a guest.”

 

“Do you think she poisoned them?”

 

Wendy tries not to show she's frowning when Joohyun breaks their fingers apart, thanking her instead when Joohyun passes a plate. She's settling on a stool chair, resting arms over the bar table as Joohyun filters through the cabinets.

 

“Sooyoung's too righteous to do something underhanded.”

 

Wendy traces the surface of the glass cup Joohyun gives her, humming as Joohyun pours water into the container.

 

“Sounds like she'd make a good cop,” she scrutinizes Joohyun for any evidence of her suspicion, “what is she working as, anyway?”

 

If Joohyun is nervous at her question, she certainly doesn't show it.

 

“A manager for a telemarketing company.” Joohyun's returning her gaze and if anything, it makes Wendy nervous for how steady it is. “She's good at handling complaints.”

 

It doesn’t answer the handcuffs and badge in Joy's room, a worry piling up in Wendy’s chest, clawing at her throat to form a question that's itching to be asked. She can't swallow it down, not when all of her hard work for the past two years can crumble to nothing.

 

When Joohyun settles on the stool beside her, Wendy rises to stand. Should she really risk asking? There's a high chance Joohyun would relay her interrogation to Joy and she can't predict anything farther than that.

 

Her lips purse, syllables forming behind her mouth, loitering about on her tongue.

 

She'll risk it. It's about time she asked everything else, anyway.

 

“Are you sure Joy isn't a cop?” Wendy's anxious, pacing behind Joohyun. “And how did you know about my Friday night dates?”

 

She swears she catches Joohyun swallow, how her throat moves like something has lodged itself there. When Joohyun attempts to stand from her stool chair, Wendy is quicker.

 

Wendy shoves her back down by the shoulders, ignoring Joohyun's grunt. She ushers her to spin around so they're facing each other, satisfied that she's towering over Joohyun (even if it's only because she's the one standing), finding confusion palpable on Joohyun's expression.

 

She cracks a smile.

 

“You're not going anywhere, Hyunnie.” Wendy's thumbs are rubbing circles against her shoulders, “Not until I know _exactly_ what those handcuffs and badge are doing in Joy's room.”

 

Joohyun's scoffing, running a hand through her hair. Wendy sees how her client is avoiding her gaze, but she's too busy trailing curious fingers up the expanse of Joohyun's skin to call her out on it.

 

The tips of her nails trace the flush of color growing along Joohyun's neck, fascinated at the rise and dipping motion of Joohyun's swallow.

 

“She likes to role-play,” Joohyun says, the words thrumming under Wendy's fingers.

 

Wendy blinks her daze away, hands stopping to rest against the sides of Joohyun's neck.

 

Role-play? As in, _acting_ out scenes together?

 

Wendy's eyes narrow, suspicion tracing her throat, the words spewing past her lips without hesitation.

 

“I hope she's not roleplaying with you.”

 

Joohyun's stammer has Wendy's stomach twisting at the mere thought. To think of Joohyun in bed with someone else—

 

“No way,” Joohyun's rubbing her temple, “at least, not really...?”

 

It's something Wendy's not used to feeling, her limbs filling up with green envy, fingers curling against Joohyun's collar.

 

“What do you mean, 'not really'?” She's spouting nonsense now but it doesn't matter to her, “You _better_ have been the cop doing all the arresting because I swear, if _you_ were the one cuffed to the bedpost by _Joy_ —”

 

“She just practices saying her lines to me before she goes out to meet with her girlfriend.” Joohyun's brows scrunch up, “And 'cuffed to the bedpost'?”

 

Oh.

 

“Never mind.”

 

It feels like someone had dunked a bucket of relief on Wendy's head because the annoying envy in her veins finally leave her muscles, her fists loosening, her teeth unclenching. Her heart's not ramming against her ribcage anymore, either.

 

Joy already having someone else makes Wendy blush – she was worried for nothing. But to think she had drowned in jealousy so quickly; could she _be_ anymore transparent?

 

“At this rate, you're going to be the same color as your bra and underwear.” Joohyun says, amusement painting her smile, her finger prodding Wendy's forehead.

 

Wendy wants to bite back, “It's all your fault,” but feeling Joohyun's playful poke against her skin makes her mouth fall silent. She doesn't have to look down to know that her body is still red: how heat burns through her arms, her legs, her neck, her face – and it's all Joohyun's _fault._

 

Pretending that her ears aren't heating up and her lips aren't numbing from the fire under Joohyun's stare, Wendy does what she does best.

 

“Yeah, well...” Syllables trail past her mouth, until her hand reaches up the back of her bra's clasp. “...I guess that just means I won't be needing these anymore.” Wendy smiles, “It's getting a little hot in here, don't you think?”

 

What once was embarrassment coloring her skin has flipped over to excitement drilling into her bones.

 

How could she not feel giddy when Joohyun's expression changes as quickly as replacing a pair of dead batteries? Joohyun's eyes are bright with panic, her jaw going slack, her cheeks flaring as red as her own – Wendy is _loving_ it.

 

“W-Wait, I take that back!” Joohyun's stuttering, hands flailing. “You're _not_ going red! You're _pale_ and – um...”

 

Wendy chuckles at how frantic Joohyun's gotten, but it doesn't stop her from holding the clasp on her back, a grin creeping the edges of her lips.

 

She steps closer, nudges Joohyun's knees to open so she can fit in between, well aware of the stammer of protests that slip Joohyun's lips. Wendy leans down to whisper in her ear, all too tempted to place a quick kiss on Joohyun's cheek.

 

“Wouldn't it be nice if we were matching?” Wendy feels Joohyun shudder, her client's skin grazing her lips. “Since you're too shy, I'll start first.”

 

She leans back and lets the words sink into Joohyun's head, watches how her client's eyes widen with each passing silence. Knowing she has Joohyun's undivided attention, Wendy doesn't wait anymore. Her hand crawls up behind her, fingers curling around the strap, and tugs it loose.

 

_Snap._

 

Joohyun looks petrified.

 

Wendy holds in a laugh. As soon as she gives a little pull on her clasp, she could feel the straps slide down her shoulders.

 

But before it comes off completely, Joohyun is springing up, so fast that everything becomes a blur until she's blinking the fog away, staggering for balance, her back turned towards Joohyun.

 

Did Joohyun just spin her around?

 

Joohyun's hands are warm on her shoulders, feeling the rapid rise and drop of her client's chest against her bare back, Joohyun's panting breath climbing into Wendy's ears.

 

Oh god, not _again._

 

“You…” Joohyun's huffing, her fingers digging into Wendy's skin. “...You really don't give me a chance to think, do you?”

 

Wendy recalls Joohyun saying something similar during one night together. But she can't bother to think much more than that when Joohyun's holding her like this, keeping her from turning around completely.

 

Who even _does_ that?

 

“...This is new,” Wendy says, still registering the fact that this was Joohyun's solution, finding her bra lying comfortably on the floor by her feet. “You'd rather look at my naked back, than my breasts?”

 

Joohyun snorts, but no words leave her lips.

 

Wendy's not sure if she should feel offended.

 

“It's not like you haven't seen them before,” Wendy chuckles when Joohyun scoffs behind her, “We're both women.”

 

“I know,” Joohyun's fingers are warm; so is the breath tickling the back of her neck. “I just – I'd rather not.”

 

A stammering Joohyun is a cute Joohyun; Wendy's still pleased, regardless of the fact that she can't see it. There's a blush creeping its way up Wendy's throat, the thought of Joohyun touching her (even if it's just on her shoulders) eliciting a tremble along her limbs. Wendy tries to turn her head, crane her neck to look back, swallow the flush tainting her skin, and giggles up at a face she's seen too often in her dreams.

 

Wendy pretends she's not close enough to kiss Joohyun's frowning lips.

 

The scent of vanilla is viciously potent.

 

“Well, we can't stand here all day. I'm getting cold.” Wendy smiles at Joohyun's snort, “Mind picking that up for me? Or would you rather I bend over to get it instead?”

 

Joohyun's sudden jolt has Wendy laughing, raucous and loud, and completely unreserved. It's not often she feels happiness flutter through her stomach, rise up to her chest, and to have it spill without worry – her throat tickles of the giggles that don't subside, tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

 

“I-I'll do it! I'll do it! Just—” Joohyun's patting her back, the hesitation in her fingers so palpable, like she's not sure if she's allowed to touch Wendy's skin. “Just don't _move,_ okay?”

 

Wendy grins, not one to waste opportunities.

 

“What, like _this?_ ”

 

She spins on cue, cackling when Joohyun slaps a hand to her face, blocking her vision.

 

It's amusing to see Joohyun scramble blindly for the bra still on the floor, feeling for it with a single hand because the other is too busy acting as a protector.

 

“Hyunnie, you look ridiculous.”

 

“T-That doesn't matter!” Joohyun's voice is a mix of squeaks and grumbling, “I can find it – just hold on. Now where is it...?”

 

Wendy smiles at the picture – of Joohyun adorably crawling on her knees, patting her hand along the surface of the floor for a bra that's just beside Wendy's feet. Wendy can't help but keep mum just so she can memorize it.

 

Joohyun's muttering under her breath, scrambles of noises too incoherent and quiet to understand. Wendy didn't think it'd be this difficult to find – it wasn't like the bra was thrown across the room in the heat of a passionate moment.

 

Not that she'd mind it.

 

Wendy kneels, hugging her knees so her chest can hide behind them, and decides to help her out. It's been long enough of a wait – she's got the image reel on repeat to look back to later, anyway.

 

“Over here, Hyunnie.” Wendy says, chuckling when Joohyun motions slowly towards her like a puppy – cutely obedient. “You can stop covering your eyes, now.”

 

“Why, have you turned around?”

 

“No,” Wendy laughs at Joohyun's pout, “but you can't see them.”

 

Joohyun scoffs. “That just means you're still naked.” Joohyun's grabbing the strap of her bra, once she's done feeling her feet, Joohyun's tentative touches tickling Wendy. “Here.”

 

Wendy's amused at the bra dangling between Joohyun's fingers, grasping the item, grazing Joohyun's skin.

 

“Thanks,”

 

Joohyun nods, still childishly hiding behind a hand.

 

“Tell me when you've put it on.”

 

An idea slithers into Wendy's mind, grinning.

 

She sighs, pretending to place the bra back on, when it's really still just dangling between her hands, holding the clasp and making sure it clicks loudly in place.

 

Good thing Joohyun's shielding her eyes.

 

“You're no fun,” Wendy mock-whines, all the while just staring at Joohyun waiting patiently for her modesty that isn't going to come. “You're lucky I like you even if you're boring.”

 

Joohyun's chuckling.

 

Wendy smiles at the sound of it.

 

“So Joy's not a cop?”

 

Joohyun's giving her this small smile, something quiet – wistful even, that Wendy can't tell if Joohyun's just taking her time or there's a secret hiding behind her lips.

 

“Yeah, she isn’t.”

 

Wendy's not surprised she finds herself believing her.

 

She reaches out, slides her fingers along Joohyun's shoulder, caressing the space where her collarbone hides beneath her shirt.

 

Her tone is empty of the playfulness she's used to displaying, hoping that her curiosity won't scare Joohyun off.

 

“How did you find out about my Friday night dates?”

 

Joohyun's not pushing her off, humming, removing her hand from her eyes, but they're still closed.

 

“I told you, remember? From work.”

 

“Which work?”

 

“Where they like to buy condoms.”

 

Wendy hums, scooting closer, resting on Joohyun's shoulder. She feels her twitch at the proximity, the surprise running through her limbs.

 

Joohyun's patting her back, her touch tentative, as if searching. Her deadpan voice has Wendy laughing into the warmth of a guardian's hold.

 

“...You're not wearing it.”

 

Wendy ignores her, nuzzling closer, forces Joohyun to hold her longer – it's comfortable here.

 

The bra still teeters between Wendy's fingers.

 

“And how did you know he was a client of mine?” Her question is muffled by Joohyun's shirt, too soft to leave behind.

 

Joohyun's fingers grasp the bra in her hands, feeling her take it, the material slipping from her skin.

 

“He dropped a piece of paper with your name on it.”

 

Wendy can easily imagine what else would be written on that. It would explain how Joohyun knew of her email address.

 

“So you lied to me?”

 

She can actually hear Joohyun go sheepish, her nervous laughter tickling Wendy's neck, Joohyun's chin a gentle pressure on her shoulder.

 

“...Er, yes...?”

 

Wendy grins, turning her head to blow warm air against Joohyun's ear, feeling her shudder.

 

“Maybe I should punish you for it,” Wendy thinks back on the cuffs in Joy's room, “pin you to your bedpost and have some bedroom fun.”

 

Joohyun stiffens against her, and as much as Wendy loves having the woman go as rigid as a rock, she should give her a little break, too.

 

She slithers her arms around Joohyun's back, rubbing a hand up and down.

 

“I'm kidding, Hyunnie.”

 

Joohyun scoffs. “Now _that's_ a lie.”

 

Wendy laughs.

 

She snuggles against Joohyun and takes advantage of their time together. It's quiet and comfy and Wendy doesn't want to leave.

 

Joohyun's tapping Wendy's elbow.

 

“Here,” Wendy shifts back at Joohyun's voice, enough to see Joohyun's eyes shut tight, her client holding out the bra in her hands. “Put your hands through. I'll clip it back on for you.”

 

It's amazing, Wendy thinks, as she follows Joohyun's instructions, nestling back into Joohyun's embrace, clutching at Joohyun's shirt to crinkle the material between her fingers. She can feel Joohyun's hands tug at the clasp, hearing it click together, the band safely tucked against Wendy's back, again.

 

How a client is dressing her up instead of taking the opportunity to taste her is still something Wendy can't wrap her head around.

 

She was already pressed against her, _topless._

 

Is she simply not Joohyun's type?

 

Joohyun's tapping her hip, muttering too close to her ear, “Are you hungry?” and making Wendy melt when Joohyun waits for her to move.

 

Wendy lets her lips linger on Joohyun's neck, too comfortable to leave in her embrace, and too tempted to leave a kiss on the skin to bother getting up just yet.

 

Besides, there's still something that's bugging her. She'll keep Joohyun trapped between her arms and legs for a little longer.

 

“...What were you going to say after that?”

 

“After what?”

 

“'He bites so hard that...'?”

 

Joohyun's rubbing her back, humming like it'll jog her memory better, her gentle comfort soothing enough that Wendy swears she could fall asleep.

 

She shuts her eyes to press her eyelids against warm skin, feeling the fog of slumber not too far behind.

 

Wendy almost misses Joohyun speak, when she whispers it like a lullaby.

 

“...that it looks like it hurts.”

 

There it is again – that annoying bouquet of feelings.

 

Wendy doesn't respond, pretending she didn't just hear Joohyun talk like her heart had been a part of it too, and handles it the only way she knows how.

 

She pretends they weren’t just holding each other on the floor, lending a hand to help Joohyun up. There’s nothing Wendy could really say – nothing that beats Joohyun’s sincerity, or anything that comes remotely close.

 

So Wendy reverts back to being playful and sly, dismissing the air of intimacy too constricting that it isn't all that funny anymore, and mentions that they should finish the bacon Joy had made for them.

 

Anything to get out of the stuffy chokehold Joohyun has on her.

 

-

 

Joy's bacon still tastes delicious even when it goes cold.

 

Wendy makes sure to chew, seated comfortably on the stool chair, eating off a plate she shared with Joohyun atop the bar table. The blanket is snug around her, letting one side droop so air can flit over a shoulder, seep into her skin.

 

Joohyun's running about, gathering her things, glancing at her wristwatch every few minutes.

 

“You can stay here for as long as you like,” Joohyun says between stuffing books into her bag and throwing her jacket on, “Sooyoung will be back first, if you want to wait.”

 

Wendy spins on her chair to look at Joohyun tie her hair up into a high ponytail.

 

“You trust me to stay alone in your apartment? Are you sure that's a smart thing to do?”  

 

Wendy steps off her seat, taking a piece of bacon with her and heads for the door, where Joohyun's now tying on her shoelaces.

 

Joohyun looks up at her, a smirk tugging along the corner of her lips.

 

“Whether it's smart of me or not, isn't that up to you? I can't control what you do. You don’t even call me ‘unnie’.”

 

Wendy grins. “You're right about that,”

 

She bends down to press a chaste kiss on Joohyun's forehead, more out of want than a need to prove her point. Wendy chuckles at the surprise coloring Joohyun's eyes, the tinge of pink painting across her cheeks, hears how she stammers broken syllables.

 

“I – what?”

 

“Relax, Hyunnie. Girlfriend Experience, remember?” Wendy smiles, hiding away the nerves in her fingers behind her back. “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I don't give a kiss to start the day?”

 

Wendy's all too aware of her abuse of the term. She's never had to make excuses to do her job when her clients expected nothing less. But Joohyun expects nothing to begin with and it makes Wendy want to do _more._

 

Funny. She's never been this eager to work on a Sunday.

 

Joohyun's dusting her knees, straightening up to a stand, a small smile lining her lips.

 

“Thanks, Seungwan.”

 

Wendy pouts, mock-hurt spilling from her throat, rocking sideways on the balls of her feet.

 

“What, none for me? You gave one so easily last night.”

 

Joohyun's laughter and a gentle tap of a knuckle to her forehead is all she gets, feeling disappointment rise in her chest when Joohyun waves a goodbye, her smile being the last thing she sees before the door shuts.

 

As much as Wendy expected the rejection, it still doesn't hurt any less.

 

Wendy glances around the apartment one more time, memorizing the homey atmosphere shared between friends she can't call her own. When she peeks through Joy's room, just to make sure she's left everything exactly the way it's supposed to be (not that it matters, anymore), she spots a framed picture of a note she had written a few weeks ago.

 

_(You're lucky I didn't strip you naked while you were asleep. Those buttons were so annoying to wake up to in the morning, but at least you smelled nice. Thanks for the shirt, by the way. You better have been dreaming about me._

_—Your ‘Wan’ and only,_

_Seungwannie)_

 

She's not all that surprised to see that Joy would keep it. Joy looked like the type to use anything out of playful spite.

 

When Wendy travels back into Joohyun's room, knowing full well she's been given the opportunity to thoroughly snoop, she settles for cleaning the bed up.

 

She takes a sticky note off the study desk, as well as her lipstick, re-tracing the red along her lips. Wendy scribbles words before leaving the note on top of Joohyun's pile of notebooks.

 

_(Maybe next time we'll actually sleep in your bed. Until then, you'll keep it warm for me, won't you?_

_Don't miss me too much._

_—Your 'Wan' and only,_

_Seungwannie)_

 

Wendy stamps her little letter with a kiss, grinning at the stain her lipstick makes.

 

She can’t wait to see Joohyun again.

 

Just as she leaves Joohyun’s bedroom to get the rest of her things, pack up for the day and relax on her last day off before work starts tomorrow, her phone vibrates.

 

Filtering through her purse, Wendy frowns at the little notification on her screen.

 

_(Still busy Fridays? I miss you.)_

 

Sender: The Biter

Sent: 10:15:26 AM

Sent: 11/10/17

 

Wendy's seen more than enough of these messages from him – ranging from, “I want you so much,” to “I'll pay higher than that asshole.” Nothing he offers could beat out her best client, though. There's no price that could have Wendy choose someone else when Joohyun requests for her on Friday nights.

 

It's not a difficult problem to solve when Joohyun's part of the equation.

 

Her response comes easily, typing in a more polite version of, “Yes” and a necessary lie, “Miss you too,” before hitting send.

 

His fast reply surprises her, clicking the new popup box, scanning through the short text.

_(How about Wednesdays? I'll pay double, even triple.)_

 

Sender: The Biter

Sent: 10:15:35 AM

Sent: 11/10/17

 

Wendy frowns, recalling that she already has someone else reserved for a part of the evening. Though she can squish him in as long as their times don't match up.

 

She jumps when her phone dings, another message blinking on her screen.

 

_(I want you so much.)_

 

Sender: The Biter

Sent: 10:15:40 AM

Sent: 11/10/17

 

His desperation bleeds off her phone like spilled cans of paint, a cue that's blaring neon of how easy it would be to sway his offers – make money pool into her hands with flowered lies and a show of compromise.

 

So she does just that: exaggerates how she already has two people reserved for that night, one being particularly wealthy (but not any fun), and she's willing to let him slide if it means quadrupling her price.

 

When he replies a minute later, too eager to say, “I'll take it,” Wendy accepts.

 

At least this way, he makes up for his bites.

 

_(It's a date.)_

 

Sender: Wendy

Sent: 10:17:01 AM

Sent: 11/10/17

 

Gathering her things, pulling her fur coat over her shoulders, and slipping on her heels, Wendy makes her way home; clicking the door shut to a place she'd rather call her own.

 

-

 

As soon as Irene shuts the door to her apartment, she’s going through her bag for her phone, hoping that it's distracting enough to ignore the desire coursing her mind.

 

Temptation still trickles through her blood, streaming along her limbs that Irene curses at the jitters still paralyzing her fingers.

 

Irene usually didn't mind mornings. She didn't find too much trouble waking up just to go to work, but having them filled with a seductress's smile and fleeting touches of enchantment – that was a different experience entirely.

 

The opportunity of kissing Seungwan was all she could think about. Her jasmine scent was intoxicating.

 

Irene sighs, giving up the search for her phone just so she could rake fingers through her hair, claw at her scalp and hope that the trail of her nails can scratch away the memory of Seungwan's bare back.

 

The softness of alabaster skin had seized Irene’s entire body, her chest having thumped so loudly that Irene had squeezed her eyes shut in prayer that Seungwan couldn't hear it. It only made the tremor quake harder when she had felt Seungwan snuggle up to her, the mere touch of Seungwan's bare chest pressed against hers a spark that still won't go away.

 

She would've worn a few more layers of clothing if she had known that Seungwan was going to hug her, naked.

 

Irene slumps against the wall of white and grey, shutting her eyes and breathing in so the feral fog of Seungwan's soft skin lingering on her fingertips fizzle out into nothing.

 

Temptation has never been too difficult to ignore, but when it's Seungwan, Irene's afraid of the thought that just one more push – if Seungwan calls for intimacy just _one_ more time, she'll end up giving in.

 

Sighing, Irene steps off the wall and hopes that it won't happen.

 

Finally yanking her phone out once the jitters fade away, Irene listens to it ring, tapping a finger to ease the stress still lining her limbs, the conversation she had with Seungwan still throbbing her brain.

 

_(“Are you sure Joy isn't a cop?”)_

 

It was too close for comfort.

 

The line clicks open, and before Sooyoung could utter a breath, Irene beats her to it.

 

“She knows.”

 

_“Knows what?”_

 

“That you're a cop,” Irene pauses, “or at least, she has a feeling.”

 

Sooyoung hums. There's shuffling on the other end, like paper being ruffled, Irene can't quite tell.

_“Then I guess we won't be seeing her around, anymore.”_

 

“What do you mean?”

 

 _“Would she stick around with you knowing your roommate's a cop?”_ There's more scrambling on her end, the noise worming its way into Irene's ear. _“If I were her, I wouldn't.”_

 

Irene keeps mum. She knows that herself, of course. It was why she lied – and still continues, to lie. Seungwan wouldn’t see her anymore if she knew, and if that were to happen, then Seungwan would just go back to a man who bites hard enough that check-ups at ungodly hours is nothing more than a routine.

 

Sooyoung's chuckling.

 

 _“But I'm not her, so I wouldn't know.”_ Sooyoung's munching on something, the crackling crashing into the receiver that Irene has to pull the phone away. _“Did she ask you? If I was a cop?”_

 

“Yes,” Irene sighs, rubbing her temple. “She saw your handcuffs and badge, so I said you liked roleplaying. I also gave you a fake girlfriend.”

 

Sooyoung's whistling through the phone, the noise making Irene wince.

 

 _“Buying an escort's time_ and _lying? And out of all things, role-play? You're getting naughtier, unnie. And my girlfriend better be beautiful.”_

 

Irene scoffs.

 

“I'm just spending time with her, and it's not necessarily a lie – you _do_ like roleplaying. And your girlfriend doesn’t have a name _or_ a face.” She flicks the elevator button, watching the numbers count up. “And why did you leave those behind? Don't you need them for work?”

 

Sooyoung chuckles.

 

 _“There are these things called 'spares', unnie. Besides,”_ There's a lower thrum in Sooyoung's voice, more controlled. _“I wanted to know if your tiny-little escort would snoop.”_

 

Irene frowns. “So you _are_ underhanded,”

_“How else did I find that piece of paper with Wendy's name in your room?”_ Sooyoung giggles, _“But I prefer clever.”_

 

Irene snorts, but it doesn't come as much of a surprise. Sooyoung's always been smart. She just prefers hiding it away behind mischievous smiles and a dirty tongue.

 

The fact that Seungwan had looked around wasn't unexpected, either. It's good that she did, if only so she could survey her surroundings – walk with caution in a stranger's home.

 

When the elevator dings, Irene steps in, spotting a girl in a high school uniform rushing to squeeze in before the doors close.

 

Irene blinks at messy hair and wrinkled clothing. The girl is busy panting, readjusting the straps of her backpack, and fixing the strands over her face.

 

She looks familiar. Her uniform is the same as the time a group of loud high school girls came squeezing in to fit in the elevator.

 

_“Are you watching porn, unnie? I thought I heard the elevator, but I hear some heavy breathing and—”_

 

Irene swears the red shoots up her neck faster than she could stop the nonsense spilling Sooyoung's tongue, especially when the stranger is giggling, making it clear she's heard it.

 

She ignores the amused smile painting the high schooler's lips.

 

“Sooyoung! Of course not! I'm not—”

 

Before she could erase the idiocy off Sooyoung's tainted mouth, the stranger makes an eerily suspicious sound – one too mature to be found associated with a high school student's uniform.

 

The girl is pretending to _moan._

 

“Yes, r-right there, unnie!”

 

Irene fumbles with her phone, the horrendous sounds along with a voice too young to be paired with anything like that, that she's having trouble clearing up the misunderstanding over the line.

 

Sooyoung's never sounded so betrayed.

_“Uh, excuse me, unnie. What the hell is happening?!”_

 

Irene's stammering, “It's not what you think” over and over again, that perhaps the stranger decided to take pity on her, and stops just to laugh.

 

She's thankful the doors to the elevator has closed, at least.

 

“I was just teasing,” the girl says into the receiver, once she grabs Irene's phone like they're friends. “She's not watching porn.”

 

Irene can't feel that thankful for clearing the mishap when the girl returns her mobile, not when that cheeky grin still colors her face – the satisfaction lighting up her eyes is hard to ignore.

_“She sounds young. Did I just get duped by someone young?”_

 

Sooyoung's voice echoes inside the elevator, the volume on Irene's phone still not lowered enough to provide privacy – which she should start adjusting.

 

The stranger giggles.

 

“The name's Yerim, but you oldies can call me Yeri. And before you get any weird ideas, no, I'm not interested in old people.” Irene grimaces at the shriek of protest from Sooyoung about being called old, pulling the phone away as Yeri yanks out hers. “Anyways, I need take this. See you, oldie!”

 

Irene watches her skip out as soon as the elevator opens, not minding the fact that she left (she'd rather not spend time with trouble, and the girl looks too much like trouble), and clicks the button for the car park.

 

But not without having her ears perk up at a name she's accustomed to hearing on her own lips.

 

“Seungwan-unnie? Yeah, I'm coming home. Just had to drop some stuff off at a friend's. Where were you last night, anyway? And even the night before?”

 

Yeri's voice tapers off until it's muffled completely by the steel doors shutting to a close.

 

 _“Hey,”_ Irene blinks at the sound of Sooyoung's voice trickling into her ear, _“what's with the silence?”_

 

She'd consider it a coincidence – that there's more than one person who has Seungwan as a name. But to hear how this 'Seungwan' has been away for two nights – all Irene can think of is the Seungwan still in her apartment.

 

Irene squeezes her eyes with a hand. The interrogation with Seungwan is still plaguing her chest, as well as the temptation of jasmine still thrumming her fingers.

 

“It's nothing.”

 

She'll think about the connections, later.

 

-

 

It's not until Wednesday that Irene is reminded of a possible link the high schooler has with Seungwan.

 

She's busy flitting through columns of fruits and vegetables, pondering on whether Sooyoung's already finished the batch of apples she bought a few days ago, when someone's tapping her shoulder, a giggle worming into her ear.

 

“Hey, oldie.”

 

It's the second time she actually converses with the girl, and even though Irene doesn't know her all that much, she knows her well enough to guess the cheeky grin written on her face. A fleeting glance is all Irene gives her, before returning her casual greeting with a nod.

 

“Hey.”

 

Irene's packed for time. An interview with the head doctor at noon, group project meeting scheduled for 1:30pm, shift at the department store from three to closing, then her typical rounds at the hospital till three the next morning. It doesn't help that the following weeks won't be any lighter, either.

 

“You sound grumpy,”

 

“Just tired.” Irene says, scrutinizing an apple. “I'd rather be at home right now.”

 

Yeri's chuckling, shifting to stand beside her.

 

“You remind me of my unnie.” Yeri takes the apple from her fingers, rolling it around her palm. “She doesn't like going out all that often, either.”

 

Irene flutters through the cluster of red, plucking a few from the batch and dropping it into a small clear bag, humming to show she's heard.

 

Yeri's footsteps trail after her when she treks towards the crowd of bananas.

 

Irene arches a brow. “Why are you following me?”

 

It's not laced with hostility, just a probing curiosity that she can't help but voice out, noting the Cheshire smile on the high schooler's face. Yeri's giggling, shrugging as she paces beside her, kicking at air.

 

“Seungwan-unnie's looking for ingredients for dinner and she doesn't exactly trust me to pick them out with her. So I was just roaming around until I found you, and figured I could bug you.” Yeri sighs, her shoulders drooping. “It's not _my_ fault I have unique taste...”

 

Irene lets silence claim her lips at the name she's come to know past scheduled appointments on Friday nights. From the few bits of sentences she's heard from Yeri before she left the elevator that Sunday morning, Seungwan (if it was the same Seungwan) hasn't told Yeri the truth about her nightly escapades.

 

Or maybe she has and Yeri's trying to gauge her reaction. Irene can't tell.

 

“Do you do this with every stranger?” Irene says instead, busying herself with the task of finishing up her grocery list. “You should go back to her. I'm not exactly great company, anyway.”

 

“No, not everyone. You're not a creepy man, for starters. You're actually a very pretty unnie.” Yeri's teetering between the weights of her feet, leaning on one before shifting to the other. “And I can see that. You're really boring. I guess you really can't have everything.”

 

Irene snorts at the teasing smile plastering itself along Yeri's face.

 

“I hope you're not bothering her, Yerim.”

 

The scent of jasmine slithers its way into Irene's senses, that signature flutter of auburn coming into vision beside her, the flicker of amethyst earrings gleaming along with the smile that paints her lips.

 

Yeri's pouting.

 

“It's not like you want me around while you shop,” she grabs Irene's arm, yanking her elbow, the force making Irene yelp. “Besides, she's a friend.”

 

Seungwan raises a brow. “Is that so...?”

 

Irene almost shudders at the knowing smile growing along Seungwan's mouth and the twinkling spark in her eyes.

 

Yeri pulls her forward, forces her a few steps closer towards a woman Irene already spends her Friday evenings with. Irene almost rolls her eyes at the look Seungwan gives her, all too amused at their predicament.

 

They go through introductions, again.

 

“Seungwan-unnie, meet oldie. Oldie, meet adorable shorty, Seungwan-unnie.”

 

Seungwan's frowning. “It's not like you're that much taller, Yerim.”

 

“That's what you _always_ say.”

 

Irene keeps mum, more intrigued with this persona of innocence and naivety than their friendly bickering – a bleeding contrast to Seungwan's sultry mask of temptation and seduction. Seungwan's traded her evening attire of promiscuous elegance for oversized sweaters and sweatpants pooling over her feet.

 

Her gestures are more withdrawn, as if the switch for tantalizing flicks of the wrist and coy smiles has been turned off. Playful laughter has been exchanged for soft giggles, sophistication replaced with a gentle air – an image that Irene would never have associated with Seungwan in the first place.

 

Irene blinks at an outstretched hand.

 

“I'm sorry, I didn’t quite catch your _actual_ name. I'm Seungwan, and you are...?”

 

She goes through the motions on autopilot, their hands folding in together, Seungwan's heat already too familiar for Irene to not recognize.

 

“Joohyun.”

 

A smile lights up Seungwan's face; it isn't any of the ones Irene's already seen.

 

Yeri’s clicking her tongue.

 

“Now while you two oldies get acquainted, I'll be over there checking out those pretty dresses.”

 

Seungwan's pouting. “But I got everything already. You said—”

 

“I just needed you to stop baking, unnie. You need to get out more.”

 

There's a twitching curve on the corner of Seungwan's lips that Irene doesn't miss, as if laughter is about to gush out and Seungwan's trying not to burst. Knowing her night life, Irene's not surprised.

 

Yeri's spinning around, her foot lifting towards the racks of dresses, when she's whipping back as if she's changed her mind, hands hiding behind her back as a frown paints her face.

 

“Speaking of getting out more, where were you last Friday night? And even Saturday, unnie?”

 

Yeri's question jolts Irene awake, the fog of Seungwan's secret lifting from her mind's eye. She glances to find Seungwan fiddling with the ends of her sweater, the cuffs swallowing most of her fingers.

 

“I told you, didn't I? I was with a friend.”

 

“I know, I just didn't believe it the first time. And I still don't, because what ‘friend’?” Yeri's bending forward, as if to peek beneath Seungwan's fringe. “The only one I know is _me,_ unnie.”

 

Seungwan scoffs. “You're not my only friend, Yerim.”

 

“Then who is it?”

 

Irene's not sure if she should say anything. She'd end up having to explain excuses made up on the spot, and as much as she's tempted to help Seungwan out, it'd be more helpful of her to stay out of it.

 

“From work. You wouldn't know them, anyway.”

 

“Writing songs for other singers to sing? But I thought you said they're all pretentious.”

 

“Not all,” Seungwan looks exasperated, pushing against Yeri's shoulders, urging her to spin around. “Now shoo, go look at those dresses. I want to apologize to Joohyun-ssi for wasting her time with us.”

 

Yeri's scoffing, waving a hand as she complies, walking away, but not without throwing one more remark over her shoulder. Her cheeky smile is back.

 

“Please, I'm a blessing.”

 

Irene watches Yeri disappear behind racks of clothing, her “See you around, oldie” the last thing she hears from her. Shoving her free hand into the crevice of her pocket, Irene readjusts her hold on the plastic bags of bananas and apples, just as Seungwan turns to her – familiarity coloring her soft smile.

 

“Small world.” It’s all Seungwan says.

 

Irene hums, agreeing, noting how Seungwan still remains reserved. She's not as forward as usual, and her hands are busily twiddling with the ends of her sleeves, like nerves are jostling her fingers. Seungwan's never fidgeted this much, before.

 

She can't help but speak out on it.

 

“I guess this is what you meant,”

 

Seungwan's tilting her head, curiosity brewing between her brows, crinkling skin. Now that she thinks about it, it's the first time she's seen Seungwan look lost about something. It's a little endearing.

 

“About what?”

 

“The difference between 'Wendy' and 'Seungwan'.” Irene shifts her weight on her other foot, fiddling with her car keys in her coat pocket. “Two names for two different lives.”

 

It's more forward than she thought it'd be, but she knows Seungwan wouldn't have it any other way. She should've expected it, though. Escorts wouldn't dedicate their entire life to merely providing lucrative services.

 

Seungwan's still smiling, but there's something different this time. It's not mocking – there's no slight curl at one edge of her lips, or a teasing raised brow. It's small and it doesn't last long.

 

As soon as Irene blinks, the image is gone.

 

“Yeah...” Seungwan's squeezing her arm, “...I'm lying to everyone.”

 

A certain melancholy laces Seungwan's voice, excruciatingly loud that it's almost deafening to hear.

 

“Not really,” Irene almost grins at Seungwan's frown, confusion furrowing her brows. “You're not lying to me.”

 

There's something about the way Seungwan's eyes crinkle like they're laughing, that tugs at her chest better than the intimate touches Seungwan's prone to giving her. It beats out the trembling that'd come from fingers tracing over her jawline, or the breathy whispers that'd caress her ear.

 

Seungwan's hands have found haven around Irene's arm, pressing close that Irene could smell the jasmine in Seungwan's hair.

 

“You're right,” Seungwan's nuzzling into her shoulder, an awkward half-hug, leaving a pressure of warm air with words on Irene's jacket that feels more like a stolen kiss, than a search for shared heat. “And I'm not planning to, either.”

 

It's here again.

 

This certain air of intimacy – one that had risen that Saturday evening, when Seungwan had kissed her cheek, before scurrying off as if to hide in her bedroom. Irene still can't tell why Seungwan did it – even with her excuse of it being a mere, “goodnight” kiss. It felt heavy, even when it had been a chaste touch to Irene's skin, feather-light like there was no weight to measure.

 

The feeling lingers even when Seungwan loosens her grip, lets Irene's arm go – but not before Seungwan's fingers are tantalizingly teasing the spaces between Irene's knuckles, gliding the length of her fingers until they're flitting past her nails.

 

Irene knows that the act of letting go isn't normally so laced with temptation.

 

“I'll see you Friday, Hyunnie.” Seungwan's the one who says it, curling auburn behind her ear, amethyst glinting at her touch. “Don't miss me too much.”

 

The tiny note left behind by Seungwan when she came home late Sunday evening pops into her mind, blinking the reminder away as soon as Seungwan motions to leave, turning around to disappear in the direction Yeri left for. The scent of jasmine is fleeting, fading along with Seungwan's soft steps.

 

Irene returns to gathering the rest of the items on her grocery list, pretending the skin marked by Seungwan's touches aren't burning like a fire had been tattooed across it.

 

-

 

The next time Wendy sees Joohyun, she's at a restaurant eleven blocks from her own apartment on a Thursday evening.

 

Wendy walks in with The Bowtie, wearing a matching pair of black and white; her ebony dress a stark contrast to his ashen suit.

 

She didn't think she'd find Joohyun all the way out here on the opposite side of the city. It's quite far from the apartment she knows Joohyun shares with Joy, but from the short glances Wendy makes towards Joohyun's small company, Wendy deduces that it must be a result of her client's friends.

 

“Where would you like to sit?”

 

He's holding her snug around her waist, whispering in her ear like he always does, the quick lick he makes along her earlobe no longer a surprise. Not after the twenty-second time – which had been back in the car. Wendy doesn't bother counting, anymore.

 

“How about the lounge?”

 

Wendy's interested in walking up to Joohyun's table, ask her what she's doing there, but she'd much prefer not having a client already with her.

 

But he seems to have other ideas, catching his gaze flicker towards Joohyun, his attention undoubtedly settling on her by the way he straightens up. Joohyun's a familiar and beautiful face – Wendy's not surprised he'd have his eyes on her.

 

“How about we sit there? Beside the windows?”

 

Wendy's familiar with excuses. She makes plenty herself, after all. But what she takes pride in more is the ability to steal all the attention for herself.

 

So Wendy complies.

 

“Sounds perfect.”

 

Wendy keeps close beside him, and it helps that he's still holding her, when Joohyun's table comes better into view until they're pausing just beside her. She knows he's planning to bring up their chance meeting that one Thursday night, listening to him clear his throat, so Wendy beats him to it.

 

“Hey, you're Irene, right?”

 

Wendy chooses to keep the charade up, hiding away their connection of more-than-strangers for their safety.

 

When Joohyun jumps at her voice, surprise washing over her eyes, Wendy feels herself crumble under the smile that begins to curl along the corners of Joohyun's lips.

 

“Hello,” Joohyun's rising from her seat, “yes, I'm surprised you remember. I don't think I got your name.”

 

Wendy is pleased to see Joohyun's playing along, bowing out of courtesy, watching her do the same.

 

“It's not everyday I close up a beautiful woman's shirt at the register.” Wendy smiles, stepping forward. “Looks like I won't need to, tonight. It's too bad, though...” She flits her fingers over the crisp collar of Joohyun's wine-red button-up, well aware of the several pairs of eyes watching her. “...I like being close to you. You can call me Wendy.”

 

Wendy steps back, ecstatic when Joohyun coughs into a hand, the tips of her ears beginning to color pink. Wendy's glad she's tied her hair up to see it all. Though Joohyun probably can't say the same.

 

Wendy doesn't have to look to recognize Joohyun's companions all sharing a similar shade, too. She's already caught several poorly disguised coughs from her peripheral.

 

When The Bowtie provides his own introduction, Wendy isn't listening, more preoccupied to keep him on a leash, holding onto his arm so he can stay where he should be – away from Joohyun.

 

“On another date?”

 

Joohyun's question doesn't catch Wendy off guard completely, though it's still a bit of a surprise, leaning against him, a smile curving her lips.

 

“Something like that,” Wendy says.

 

“You're welcome to join us, if you'd like.” He's talking, his voice dipped lower – his game of seduction pressed on play. “I wouldn't dare make you feel neglected.”

 

Wendy tries to hide the scowl attempting to write along her face, pushing down the bile festering in her throat. It's typical of him to suggest threesomes; she's heard it plenty of times whenever they meet other women, but it's different when it's Joohyun. She wants to keep her away from her work life as much as possible.

 

There's a polite smile on Joohyun's face, barely masking her grimace; Wendy has grown accustomed of her expressions.

 

“Thanks, but I'm not interested.”

 

“I promise you'll have a fun time,”

 

“I'm already having a fun time with my friends at the moment.”

 

Wendy finally glances at Joohyun's companions, all silent but attentive, one of them being a familiar face in particular.

 

She hides how stunned she is, returning the quiet smile Seulgi gives her when their eyes meet.

 

“Then another time,” he says, combing back his hair.

 

Wendy tries not to roll her eyes. As much as she adores his company compared to others, he's not the best. At least, not anymore.

 

“You already have a beautiful partner beside you,” Joohyun's gaze shifts towards her, “if I were you, I wouldn't want anyone else.”

 

Wendy pretends not to feel the sudden rush of both pride and appreciation swelling in her chest, swallowing down the blush attempting to color her skin. It’s a line she’s already heard from Joohyun a while ago, in mere black and white text; which started it all.

 

She hides her happiness beneath cool lips, words thankfully not broken to betray the nerves on her skin.

 

“You've got a better tongue than most,” Wendy says, smiling at the wide eyes on Joohyun's face, “mind showing me what else it can do?”

 

Wendy would love to take a picture of the expressions they're all making, a treasure worth keeping, but she's too busy memorizing Joohyun's cheeks going pink to match her ears.

 

He's hugging her closer.

 

“You're right, I'll be sure to show her tonight.” Wendy can feel his mouth kiss her neck, “I'll remind her exactly what mine can do.”

 

Wendy becomes keenly aware of Joohyun's gaze, meeting eyes that speak too much, brows furrowed, a frown scarring her lips – Wendy can't read them.

 

He's tugging her back, ushering her away from Joohyun's table.

 

“It was a pleasure seeing you again, though I fear it's best we take our leave. We're starving.”

 

Wendy's amused that he's the one to call it off – his ego must've been hurt more than she thought.

 

There's a chair screeching against the floor, a voice Wendy knows well during her visits at the hospital.

 

“You two are welcome to join us,” Seulgi says, her smile as polite as the times she's been behind the reception desk. “We don't mind the extra company.”

 

Wendy's not sure what to think of the sudden offer.

 

She doesn't mind it, but The Bowtie is here and so is Joohyun. They've already gotten a rocky headstart – Wendy's sure Seulgi has seen it too, considering their exchange just a few minutes ago. It's not a particularly good idea to mix the companionship of both of her clients together, either. Even if they're both the most well-behaved out of all her customers.

 

She doesn't think Joohyun would approve of it anyway, from the blatant glares Joohyun's been giving him (she's gotten easier to read), but Joohyun's nodding, pulling up extra chairs.

 

Though not without a fiery stare Joohyun directs towards Seulgi, silent but blazing enough that Wendy could feel the heat.

 

Wendy tries to read Joohyun's tight lips and dodging gaze whenever Wendy attempts to meet her eyes, failing even when Joohyun places a seat for her.

 

“Here,”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Wendy clasps Joohyun's forearm for the short few seconds she has her within her reach, careful not to arouse suspicion that they've known each other all along. She takes that moment to encourage Joohyun to look at her, squeezing gently, but Joohyun doesn't spare her a glance.

 

Her avoidance plagues at Wendy's chest, coiling up her throat, as she watches Joohyun take her seat across from her.

 

Wendy tries not to let a frown scar her lips.

 

“Are you sure we aren't disrupting your evening?” The Bowtie says, as a waiter comes by to add additional cutlery and glass cups for two, as well as the menu. “We're more than accustomed of being each other's only company, if you catch my drift.”

 

Joohyun's flickering gaze is blazing; it’s scorching Wendy's lungs, choking on a fire that lit up as soon as their eyes stop playing hide-and-seek.

 

It's a cue for Wendy to act her part, smiling and giggling in turn, clasping his hand to place on her lap – a way to keep him under control.

 

A few runs of her fingers over his knuckles always does wonders.

 

“But the more the merrier, right?” Wendy says, “Thank you for having us.”

 

She sweeps her gaze over the other three who aren't Joohyun, just so it isn't obvious that Joohyun's her only priority, gradually shifting focus to linger on a face she will inevitably see again tomorrow evening.

 

Joohyun's holding a cup, gaze shifted elsewhere, the water swishing in circles, eyes busy watching the dance of liquid against glass.

 

But even if Joohyun's no longer looking at her, Wendy feels like her lungs have coughed up ash, still breathless.

 

The voice that answers her isn't Joohyun's.

 

“No problem,” Seulgi's smiling at her, and Wendy ignores the pang of disappointment of not gaining Joohyun's. “We're still waiting for our orders, anyway.”

 

They fall into more quiet chatter, of typical topics like vacation plans and the latest news, The Bowtie proving to be a useful decoy in deterring unwanted conversation with company Wendy's not interested in getting to know.

 

She just wants Joohyun's.

 

Wendy hides a smile attempting to break out between her lips at the thought of what she's about to do, thankful that The Bowtie has shifted to using his hands for exaggerated gestures. She fiddles with the table's white cloth, stretching the length of it, testing its touch.

 

Making sure it's long enough to hide even the skin above her knees, Wendy slips off her heels and stretches beneath the table. She feels for Joohyun, tapping toes until it's not the steel leg of the round surface, biting her lip to smother a grin when Joohyun jolts at her curious prodding.

 

There she is.

 

“Careful,” Wendy says, masking Joohyun's reaction with an opportunity she's made for herself. “Wouldn't want you to get wet.”

 

Joohyun's glaring at her, and Wendy wants nothing more than for her to keep it up. It's better than not getting any sort of attention from her at all.

 

“Right,” Joohyun's leaning back, swiping at specks of water that stains her fingers. “Thanks for the warning.”

 

Wendy can already imagine Joohyun rolling her eyes – even if she isn't and has already returned to watching water make little waves in her glass.

 

She attempts to remedy that.

 

Her foot traces over the side of Joohyun's leg, Joohyun's jeans thankfully tight enough that each fleeting touch is never missed, a grin twitching to play along Wendy's lips when she sees Joohyun tense up.

 

But Joohyun gives her a glance so brief that Wendy would've considered it an illusion for how short it had been. How stubborn.

 

Slowly, Wendy inches her way up the length of Joohyun's calf, toes wiggling against the hard bones of her knee, excitement spiking up when Joohyun's finally returning her stare.

 

Wendy aims to make sure it stays.

 

“It's cashmere,” Wendy says, swerving with ease into a conversation to hide the intimacy benath the table. “Soft but durable. Highly recommend it.”

 

Wendy's leaning forward to prop her chin on her palm, elbow resting beside the small basket of bread, slipping the tip of her finger between the edges of her lips. A coy smile follows, growing wider with each teasing tap, not once letting go of the attention Joohyun's still giving her.

 

“That sounds great! Where did you buy it? And how much was it?”

 

A companion of Joohyun’s – whose name Wendy can't remember, is stretching forward, eagerness and curiosity draping over the arches of her brows and the smile on her mouth.

 

Wendy hums, finger counting numbers on her lip as she makes a show of looking thoughtful, not once forgetting the little game she's playing with Joohyun.

 

Her foot inches along the inside of Joohyun's thigh, noting the tremor in Joohyun's grip – the ripples of water behind glass, all too telling.

 

“I can't remember,” Wendy says, tilting her head when Joohyun motions to drink her cup, the tiny droplet that spills from the corner of Joohyun's lips falling to trace the smooth arch of her swallows. “It's been a long time since I went shopping. I'll let you know if it comes back to me.”

 

Ogling has never been her thing, but Wendy can't help but track the trail of moisture on pale skin, unable to keep her silence when Joohyun sets the cup down – and finally stops her sinful drinking.

 

“You must've been quite thirsty,” Wendy says, along with a teasing nudge of her toes against Joohyun's thigh. “I can relate.”

 

She's tempted to explore further, have her toes fiddle with the zipper on Joohyun's jeans, but she'd be pushing a mute contract of limited intimacy, and Wendy's not about to ruin her luck with Joohyun's lenient mercy. She's already treading a fine line.

 

So Wendy stays nestled against the side of Joohyun's thigh, twiddling her toes and scraping the surface of Joohyun's jeans, closer to her knee than the delightful space her zipper occupies.

 

“I wouldn't doubt it.”

 

Joohyun sounds calm, wiping off the corner of her lips, like Wendy isn't currently pushing boundaries and nudging Joohyun's thigh with her foot beneath the curtain of table cloth. But then again, her curt responses has always been as a result of clamming up.

 

“You okay, unnie? You look...” Seulgi's question brings prying eyes towards Joohyun, “...distracted.”

 

Joohyun is attempting to wave off their stares. Not that Wendy could blame anyone – Joohyun's cheeks aren't flushed a cute pink, but her one ear that peeks between strands of hair, is; it only grows deeper when Wendy rubs the back of her foot down the side of her leg, then up, and repeat. A cycle of fleeting enchantment that Wendy's practiced too often.

 

“I'm fine. It's just like Wendy said...” Joohyun's bringing back the glass to her lips, her gaze piercing enough that Wendy feels the puncture in her lungs. “...I'm thirsty.”

 

The shiver that shoots through Wendy's spine is astounding – her breath hitches from a certain chain coiling along her throat, only growing tighter the longer Joohyun holds their stare.

 

There had been a certain gruffness to Joohyun's voice, the quirk of her lips slight but beaming, as if to smirk.

 

Suddenly Wendy preferred having Joohyun's eyes play hide-and-seek over her unwavering scrutiny.

 

The evening floats by relatively smoothly. They're all holding their own conversations without qualms, shifting to other companions in between spoonfuls of seafood and steak. Wendy spends intervals drifting between the other girls and carrying on brief topics she pretends to care about only because they're with Joohyun.

 

“We should get going,” The Bowtie is mumbling in her ear, his hand warm on her thigh, fingers clumsily exploring her dress. “At this rate, you'll be charging me four times more than usual.”

 

She can see Joohyun's eyes are fixated on where her lap would be, if it weren't covered by the height of their round table, The Bowtie's hand tracing lines on Wendy's skin. Wendy's used to the crass attention, but not the fierce gaze Joohyun wears, as if to incinerate.

 

Wendy glances at his watch when he shows her, the time telling her it's already been three hours since the start of their date. The extra hours she's gained from merely accompanying him is great – doing nothing and getting paid for it beats any euphoria sex could possibly offer.

 

“Heading out?” Seulgi's the one who asks, a typical smile sealing her lips.

 

Wendy nods, pulling her foot back, and away from Joohyun's warm leg, but not without one more tap to her knee. She slips her heels back on before rising to a stand beside The Bowtie, aware of the gaze Joohyun stamps her with.

 

“Yeah,” she nestles into his side, places a hand to his chest. “Thanks for the company, everyone. It was a pleasure spending time with all of you.”

 

Joohyun's still silent through it all, even when Wendy's muttering not-so-quietly in his ear, “Let me freshen up before we go,” and leaving him to pay the bill.

 

Wendy's not at all surprised when she hears the screech of a chair and Joohyun's flimsy excuse of, “I'll be right back,” her steps echoing after her, drumming along to the clacks of Wendy's stilettos.

 

Joohyun should learn some subtlety.

 

When she enters, tiles clinking under the weight of her heels, Wendy sweeps a quick gaze across the stalls, relieved that there isn't anyone else present. She’d rather not have an audience witness a storm brewing a few paces behind.

 

When the door opens, it thuds against the wall, the impact a force that isn’t often associated with Joohyun’s calm demeanor. Joohyun's stomping towards her, the desperation in her form all too-telling of her misdirected concern.

 

“Spend the night with me.” It’s all Joohyun says, but there’s a strength to it that offers no compromise.

 

Wendy sighs, resting her hands on the sink.

 

“I'm already with a client,”

 

“I'll pay for his time with you, as well as mine.”

 

Wendy combs her hair back. “He's a regular, Hyunnie. I'm not going to leave a good customer behind and risk losing him. Besides, I don't want your money.”

 

“You can tell him you don't feel well.” Joohyun's scowling, “And I told you, just take it.”

 

Wendy shifts her weight, curling auburn behind her ear, the touch of her amethyst earring bringing comfort.

 

“I can,” she nods, knowing it's an option. “But I feel fine, so I'm not going to. And no, I don't want it.”

 

Joohyun treks closer until she pauses right behind her, her expression too clear on the reflection of the washroom's mirror.

 

“But you take everyone else’s! And he looks like—” Joohyun's frowning, gestures animated. “He just – he's _staring_ at you all the time and his eyes just keep _wandering_ like...”

 

The words don't fall from Joohyun's lips, but Wendy knows exactly what she wants to say. Wendy leans over the sink to be closer to the mirror, flick off lint from her lashes, not bothering with censorship.

 

“Like he wants to fuck me?”

 

Wendy catches Joohyun's gritted teeth, how easy it is to spot her jaw clenching, her shut eyes and grimace so obvious that Wendy's a little amused at all of it.

 

She leans back to pluck a tube of her lipstick out of her bag, spinning the dial and repainting the crisp red on her lips. Wendy doesn't sprinkle the fact with peppered feelings or illusions. Her reality’s never been hidden; Joohyun should know that.

 

“That's the point, Joohyun.”

 

Wendy isn't looking at her own lips anymore when Joohyun's scowl takes all her attention.

 

“Still—”

 

“You're the only one who doesn't want to, you know.”

 

Joohyun’s mouth clicks shut.

 

There's no sound of protest. No “That's not true” or “You're wrong” or anything that Wendy wishes it to be. It's a resounding confirmation to a fact Wendy wants to change completely.

 

Joohyun's talking again, but it’s not an answer to Wendy’s muted question. There’s a fire in her eyes that hasn't died down even when Wendy's already attempted to put it out.

 

“He's not going to hurt you, is he?” Wendy returns her lipstick in her purse, spinning around to meet that scorching gaze. “I can pay for your time tonight. My friends only invited me to dinner so I have the rest of the evening off.”

 

Joohyun's rambling, hands still animated, her words warm and comforting and reassuring. There is a genuine care in her voice, her sincerity spilling out for her to hear that Wendy's positive it's why she's chosen to go to med school. Joohyun's jittery eagerness to assist her is palpable – almost admirable.

 

Joohyun could be a hero.

 

“Because I'm worried that—”

 

She hushes her with a finger to Joohyun's lips, Joohyun's breath mingling under her skin.

 

Wendy hates heroes.

 

“That's your first mistake,” Wendy steps closer, traces her hand down the arches of her neck, before resting on Joohyun's chest, fiddling with a button. “Don't worry about me.”

 

Joohyun frowns.

 

“But—”

 

“Because the last time someone did, they left me.”

 

Joohyun falls silent.

 

She knows what Joohyun means. Throughout dinner, there had been a tension between the three of them; a sort of competitive fire that had ignited when they spoke with Joohyun and had only continued to blaze during the meal.

 

The Bowtie isn't someone to be concerned about, though. At most, he'd be rougher in bed, but that's normal and something that Wendy can handle. Besides, it'd be no fun if people were always gentle.

 

Wendy smiles, stepping back, dusting off invisible lint from Joohyun's button-up.

 

“I don't want you to leave me, too.”

 

She shifts to exit the bathroom, her hand dropping to her side, but Joohyun catches her wrist, slipping her fingers between Wendy's that she's stunned at Joohyun's ease of filling up the empty spaces.

 

Joohyun's looming closer, their hands still tangled in the air, feeling Joohyun slither an arm around her, grip the small of her back, trapping her in an embrace too close to be mere friendship.

 

“Then let me _stay._ ”

 

There's a worry in Joohyun's eyes that Wendy can't ignore. It's like they're pleading for something Wendy can't fully understand. She gets the altruism – the obvious drive of helping someone running through Joohyun's veins, as fairytale as that sounds (no one could possibly care that much for a stranger-turned-somewhat-friend), but to the extent of begging?

 

It almost sounds like Joohyun cares a bit too much.

 

Wendy doesn't know how to feel about that.

 

“You're holding me like we're about to dance.” She laughs, ignoring Joohyun's breath tickling her lips. “You'll see me tomorrow, Hyun.” Wendy reaches up with her free hand, curling strands that fall over Joohyun's face behind her ear. “Relax. I'm not inexperienced.”

 

“But I'm worried—”

 

“That's twice now, Joohyun. And not counting the other times you've already wasted worrying about me.”

 

Wendy sees her scowl again.

 

“Seungwan—”

 

“I know how to protect myself. I had to learn, anyway.”

 

Wendy's voice is cutting, to pressure Joohyun to drop the subject already, but Joohyun's grip tightens on her back.

 

“That's the problem. You shouldn't have to.”

 

“And you shouldn't be worrying.” Wendy feels a smile curl along her mouth, teasing. “You're starting to sound like you just want me for yourself, Hyunnie.”

 

Some of her previous clients have said that they couldn't fathom having to share her with someone else. Even if they knew she was busy servicing others, they couldn't help but let her know of how much they wanted her for themselves.

 

And as much as Wendy wants to scratch this one off as delusional, she can't help but find Joohyun sounding exactly the same, too.

 

Wendy wants to push her luck a little more.

 

“Do you want me, Joohyun?”

 

Joohyun's lips curve into a pout, but no words come out. Not that Wendy expected more. It doesn't stop Wendy from wanting to kiss it away, though.

 

She’s already moving, craning her head so they fit together, until she catches herself inching a bit too close to Joohyun's lips. Her gaze flickers to meet Joohyun's instead of a mouth she wants to taste, blinking away the brief lapse in judgment.

 

That level of intimacy isn't up to her.

 

Wendy curls her arm back to clutch at Joohyun's grip, make her let go. It works, but not as easily when she tries to untangle their fingers still locked together, sighing at Joohyun's stubborn hold.

 

“Joohyun...”

 

Her client is still silent, and as much as Wendy wants to hate how much Joohyun's taking her time (she wouldn't be surprised if The Bowtie starts getting suspicious), she can't bring herself to.

 

“You went back to him, didn't you.”

 

Wendy catches Joohyun's gaze flickering to her shoulder. Her dress has slipped a little, undoubtedly showcasing Joohyun of the marks The Biter had left on her last night.

 

She’s forgotten about them.

 

“I did.”

 

Joohyun's sighing, shifting her eyes, her fingers finally letting go, the warmth of Joohyun's skin still tickling Wendy even when her hand drops to her side.

 

The spaces Joohyun had once filled, burns.

 

“I'll see you tomorrow.”

 

There’s a resigned smile on Joohyun’s mouth before she’s turning around, walking away. Wendy doesn't stop her from leaving, her back disappearing behind a closing door, the creak resounding loud even in Wendy’s chest.

 

Wendy shuts her eyes, breathing in, attempt to reclaim air into her lungs that Joohyun had effortlessly stolen from her time and time again. Grabbing her purse, Wendy flicks her hand through her hair, clearing out tangles that catch between her fingers with one last glance towards the mirror.

 

When she exits the restroom, he's waiting by the door, offering his arm for her to hold and a question of “Ready for tonight?”

 

Her answer comes on autopilot, looping her arms around his, while keeping Joohyun within her peripheral, seeing her back at the table with her friends. But Joohyun's not looking at any of them.

 

Wendy leans into his side.

 

“Yeah, let's go.”

 

Joohyun's gaze is burning her whole.

 

The feeling doesn't leave even when she's in his hotel room and he's whispering sweet nothings in her ear. His hands roam her like he's touching her for the first time, but nothing he does leave her breathless or satisfied. Not even the bites that goes a little too deep and nails digging a tad too hard; they're not searing her skin – they're not making her forget about how Joohyun had looked at her like she _wanted_ her.

 

God, she's getting delusional.

 

She's busy searching for someone who isn't there: of long locks, pale skin, ember hands, and blistering gazes. His moans and her sex playlist are already thrumming loud against the walls, but not even his voice or her favorite songs could drum out Joohyun.

 

_(“Then let me stay.”)_

 

Wendy spends her paid time looking for that fire to burn her whole, again.

 

-

 

Watching Seungwan leave with a man who had desire for eyes tormented Irene more than she could handle.

 

She's dumping her bag on the couch, throwing her coat along with it, because she can't be bothered to hang it on the rack without the risk of toppling it over out of a rage that's still swallowing her fingers.

 

Even when she's attempting to cook dinner, distract herself with mundane necessities to pretend that the memory of Seungwan snuggling into him doesn't exist, Irene's having trouble trying not to break everything.

 

The chopping board, along with defenseless onions and tomatoes, clatter the countertop. The shredding crackle of excess skin and thunks of knife connecting with the surface are mere hums compared to the clear sound of a reality that includes Seungwan between the sheets.

 

 _(“He just – he's_ staring _at you all the time and his eyes just keep_ wandering _like...”_

_“Like he wants to fuck me?”)_

 

The memory is so embedded behind her eyes that Irene only snaps out of it when pain strikes her finger, wincing at the burning sting of a cut through her skin, the knife dropping to clutter the table.

 

She hisses at the sight of red dripping off the side, ripping a piece of paper towel to press down on the open wound and allow the blood to clot.

 

To think Seungwan disorients her enough to accidentally cut herself – it's starting to get out of hand. But just the thought of what they could be doing right now, makes Irene livid. The fact that Seungwan's catering to others shouldn't be bothering her this much – it was never a secret; Irene understood exactly what Seungwan's job entails.

 

She's here for one reason only: to replace that one man from reserving a spot so Seungwan doesn't need to worry over bite marks. But she’s already failed – recalling the splotches of red circles on Seungwan’s skin. And now she’s itching to schedule another appointment for Thursday evenings.

 

“What did food ever do to you, unnie?”

 

Irene scowls at the poke to her forehead, Sooyoung's grin taking up half of her face. She glances past Sooyoung's shoulder to find the onions and tomatoes over-chopped, the pieces resembling more of mashed potatoes than neat slices.

 

“Were you that angry that you even cut yourself?” Sooyoung's peeking under the thin sheet of white, “I haven't seen you this moody since – well, never.”

 

“You should see me during exams, then.”

 

Sooyoung chuckles, before disappearing into the bathroom and coming back with the first-aid kit. Irene takes the proffered band-aid, neatly tying it over wounded flesh, before dumping the wrapper in the trash, thanking Sooyoung with a pat on her arm.

 

“You look...” Sooyoung pauses, “...distracted.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes at the sound observation – one she's already heard an hour earlier from Seulgi.

 

“I am,”

 

“About what?”

 

She can't say it's about Seungwan; not unless she wants to hear another earful about how she should dismiss Seungwan altogether – that she's a waste of time and money.

 

“Work and school,” Irene's getting used to giving half-truths, how easy it slips her lips. “The usual.”

 

“Well,” Sooyoung's leaning over the countertop, “what if I told you that now would be a great time to ditch your tiny-little escort in favor of more sleep and money in your wallet? Lessen your stress a little?”

 

Irene doesn't bat an eyelash when she replies.

 

“Then I'd still tell you no.”

 

“I didn't think so,” Sooyoung's sighing, stretching her arms over the table. “But you're going to have to if you want to keep seeing her.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Sooyoung hums.

 

“More of us have been called down to scope out the neighborhoods, go undercover and catch some Johns in the act – which includes you, 'Jane'. There are plans for sting operations every other week.” She’s glancing at her nails, “And I’d rather you not get mixed up in it.”

 

Irene frowns. “Sting operations?”

 

“Undercover stuff. You _do_ know I'm not allowed to even mention this, right?”

 

“Then why are you telling me?”

 

“Because you're going to get caught if I don't for something as silly as buying an escort's company.” Sooyoung's crossing her arms, “And frankly, I wouldn't feel all that bad for you if you actually have sex with her. At least then, it'd justify arresting you. But the thought of you getting caught over cups of tea and bedtime stories? That's just sad.”

 

Irene laughs, relief washing over her chest, Sooyoung's misdirected concern erasing the pictures of Seungwan; at least, for now. She doesn't need Seungwan to be haunting over her shoulders, pressing weights against her heart, squeezing her lungs empty at the thought of a man touching Seungwan, tonight.

 

Sooyoung's chuckling with her, bumping her elbow.

 

“So in case you do get caught, at least have sex with her before then. Please.” Sooyoung grins, “To ease my conscience when I arrest you.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes, nudging Sooyoung in return. She doesn't say anything to a truth Sooyoung's been blunt with telling her for the past few weeks. As much as jokes often leave Sooyoung's lips, she's never been the type to lie.

 

Sooyoung’s stepping off the counter, yawning as she stretches, heading for her room.

 

“My team starts their investigations tomorrow, unnie.”

 

Irene nods, thankful for Sooyoung's merciful warnings. She’ll keep Seungwan and herself, out of it.

 

-

 

When Friday comes, Wendy observes that Joohyun's grown a little distant.

 

She can't tell if it's because she's judging based off of the lack of tea being offered to her, or if it's the small weak smile that Joohyun greets her with; clusters of questions from “How are you” to “Is something wrong” line up behind Wendy's mouth, eager to spill.

 

“Hey,”

 

It's Joohyun who speaks, a notion Wendy had quickly assumed she wouldn't do – not with how Joohyun shuffles straight towards the bed, plopping herself down on the mattress.

 

“Hey, you. Tired?” Wendy dumps her fur coat and purse on the seat beside the desk, before sitting on the edge of the mattress, Joohyun's arm hiding her eyes. “You look like you've been thinking too much.”

 

Joohyun chuckles. “I guess you could say that.”

 

She doesn't seem to want to make the effort to move.

 

“About what?”

 

“School, work – typical things.”

 

Joohyun's vague generalization has Wendy convinced there's more to it than that.

 

Wendy wonders if it's appropriate for her to energize Joohyun a bit, considering it's her job. It's viciously tempting when her client's eyes are blinded by her shield of an arm, knowing full well she could simply run her fingertip over the buttons of Joohyun's white collar shirt.

 

She bites her lip, sort of hating how Joohyun's wardrobe only seems to include an oversized formal shirt with buttons that tempt her to pop them open. And why was she even hesitating? She's not a companion worker. She's an escort. And maybe that's what Joohyun currently needs.

 

Wendy won't cross boundaries, but she'll balance on them – if only so Joohyun would finally make an explicit choice.

 

Wendy bends down, ghosting a finger over Joohyun's collar, her palm pressing gently over Joohyun's chest. Normally she doesn't take this long, being used to tearing away clothes off her other clients because romantic sensuality was discarded over quick, feral touches. But as Wendy curls a loose strand behind her ear, attempt to watch Joohyun react under her curious exploration, Wendy wonders about the sudden meekness in her hand.

 

She shouldn’t be this nervous; it’s not like this would be her first time.

 

“Seungwan?” Wendy ignores the chill prickling at her spine at Joohyun's soft voice, “What are you doing?”

 

Wendy slides down the top of Joohyun's collar, popping open the first button.

 

“My job,” she quickly masks nervous fingers with a smile, “It's what you're paying me to do. Even if I'm not taking it.” She hovers her lips beside Joohyun's ear, combing back the older woman's hair with a free hand so her words press against skin. “And I haven't been very good at getting it done, lately.”

 

Whatever answer Joohyun attempts to come up with at the moment, catching Joohyun moisten her lips, Wendy stops it with her tongue curling under Joohyun's earlobe, licking at soft flesh. She can feel the older woman breathe in, inhaling sharply, her palm rising along with Joohyun's chest.

 

Wendy's finger trails lower at the reminder, scraping the tip of her nail against the second button, all the while nibbling Joohyun's ear.

 

_Pop._

 

Five more buttons to go.

 

Wendy can feel herself getting hotter at Joohyun's hiss, flicking her tongue to ease the indents her teeth makes on delicate skin.

 

Her hand rakes down Joohyun's shirt, the material crinkling between her fingers. Wendy plucks the third button open as soon as her lips meet the side of Joohyun's jaw, sprinkling kisses along creamy warm skin, her hand feeling Joohyun's chest rise again to breathe. The scent of lavender is wafting through her nose, only growing stronger the closer she explores.

 

Wendy peppers her smile along Joohyun's jawline, ecstatic at how much she makes the older woman crave for air. Joohyun's prolonged silence to her touches are telling. Wendy can't deny the hope trembling in her chest, ringing her ears of a possibility she's only ever dreamed of.

 

Her palm presses against Joohyun's stomach, fingertips burning at the touch of skin peeking behind the white material of Joohyun's shirt. Wendy feels for the fourth button, eager to unclasp it open, before Joohyun grips her wrist.

 

It's oddly feather-light, like there isn't any strength put in her hold.

 

“...Seungwan.” It's all Joohyun says, yet it makes Wendy shiver for the growl that underlines her name.

 

But she doesn't want to stop. Pop goes the fourth button.

 

The next time Wendy blinks, she finds herself trapped beneath Joohyun.

 

Wendy pretends her neck isn't already warm, ignoring how the flush is rising up her cheeks, undoubtedly hurrying to swallow her ears in red, too. The memory of Joohyun having pinned her that third night, buttoning up the shirt she had lent her – it crawls into Wendy's mind like a phantom's touch.

 

“If I had known you were going to react this way, _again,_ ” Wendy begins, breathless for the winded turn over. “I would've touched you sooner.” Her hands return to fiddle with the last button on Joohyun's dress shirt, the material no longer hiding the black bra underneath.

 

Joohyun's readjusting her hold on the mattress, hands too close to Wendy's ears that she could feel the bed dip, hear it squeeze under the pressure. Tresses cascade over them like a shield; Wendy loves the private intimacy it gives – giggling when some strands tickle her cheek.

 

“...You just won't stop, will you?”

 

Joohyun sounds breathless, but all Wendy could focus on is the last button that's still closed – and how Joohyun brushes away hair that falls on Wendy's skin.

 

Wendy arches upwards but she doesn't need to travel far when Joohyun's suspiciously leaning in. She watches her client catch herself, pausing to go stiff, but it only encourages Wendy to tempt her more.

 

Her lips draw a smile along Joohyun's chin.

 

“You complain but you don't really stop me, either.”

 

Wendy's met too many people to not notice how Joohyun is trying to steel herself from her touches. It's too reminiscent of some of the men she's serviced, how they had struggled under their own self-made construct of a gentleman – how they didn't want to come off as desperately hungry for her physical affections.

 

And just like all of them, Wendy wants Joohyun to come undone, trailing her lips up until it barely caresses her client's mouth. She hears Joohyun's breath hitch.

 

Wendy scrapes her fingernail on the last button, plucking the fifth one open, grinning wider as it loosens.

 

She's used to seeing skin when shirts she's unbuttoned unclasp open, but there's a difference when Wendy knows that it's Joohyun's that dangles above her as if to trap Wendy in, no longer shielding the black bra that hides underneath.

 

She's impressed Joohyun's still hovering above her instead of scrambling away; Wendy expected she'd jolt off like she had when she 'rocked' her.

 

“You know,” Wendy starts, noting the way Joohyun keeps silent even when her hands begin to trace the slope of her client's jaw, to the lines of Joohyun's collarbones. “It won't make much sense to me if you let me touch you like this...” Wendy demonstrates, sliding her fingers slowly down the center of Joohyun's chest, pausing just above the middle strap. “...and _not_ have it lead to sex.”

 

Wendy glides past Joohyun's bra, fingers carefully flitting over the soft skin of Joohyun's stomach, before stopping at her client's belly button.

 

Her gaze flickers to Joohyun's lips, briefly wondering if she could taste the vanilla that still seeps in, soaring through her senses.

_(“All I know is, if she ever has sex with you, it would be because she loves you.”)_

 

Wendy loves the sound of that.

 

She leans up, clutching Joohyun's back, caressing words against the corner of Joohyun's mute lips; her chest pounding at each fleeting touch of their mouths between whispered syllables.

 

Wendy plays temptress.

 

“...So why are you still here?” She can't tell if she's asking or begging at this point, searching Joohyun's eyes. “Because if you don't move soon, I might actually kiss you.” Wendy tangles a hand in Joohyun's hair, “...And you know how much I want to kiss you.”

 

Joohyun's still silent, and as much as Wendy loves having Joohyun between her legs, hovering above her, like she was allowed to touch her, Wendy's more concerned about why Joohyun's not saying anything – not _doing_ anything.

 

Wendy cradles her client's face, careful fingers curving along Joohyun's cheeks, whispering.

 

“...Why aren't you saying anything?”

 

She doesn't have to wait long because the next thing she knows, Joohyun's leaning down, her eyes focused on Wendy's lips and it makes Wendy shiver in delight.

 

Joohyun's writing words against the space just below Wendy's bottom lip, every fleeting caress a torture along her skin. She wants to crash their mouths together already.

 

But she wants Joohyun to do it; have a pillar of poise and calm succumb under temptation; it wouldn't be fun otherwise.

 

“Because I want to kiss you, too.”

 

Wendy's eyes widen at the confession, and before her mind could even fully register it, Joohyun's dipping down, kissing her chin – before Joohyun's lips begin tracing Wendy's jaw, down to the lines of her neck.

 

It's instinctive to wrap her arms around Joohyun, bring her closer so Joohyun's mouth could dance heat into her skin. Joohyun's teeth scrape marks along Wendy's collarbone, a mewl puncturing Wendy's throat, only growing louder when Joohyun's tongue heals over the indents. She trembles under Joohyun's curious hand crawling down her side, scratching nails over the slope of Wendy's hip, calling fire to scorch her skin beneath a flimsy dress. It doesn't help when Joohyun begins to move lower, peppering her mouth along the canvas of Wendy's chest.

 

But as much as Wendy wants Joohyun to explore her skin, map out the spots that make her tremble, Wendy wants to finally taste the vanilla on her lips.

 

Cradling Joohyun's cheeks, Wendy guides her back up, catches Joohyun's blistering gaze, and ushers her in for a kiss that's been put on hold for far too long.

 

But then Joohyun's eyes are widening, recognition coloring them in, pausing just before their lips finally meet.

 

“...Joohyun?”

 

Like a switch, Joohyun jolts off her, as if the sound of her name molded reality back in, feeling her tumble off the bed, the mattress bouncing, before hearing her thud hard against the floor.

 

Wendy blinks from where she is, unmoving, hands cradling air – an empty space where Joohyun's supposed to be.

 

Joohyun's groaning. “My head...”

 

It feels like the ceiling is mocking her, with its white sheet of paint, void of any color – like a blank face staring down at Wendy.

 

When the movie reel of Joohyun kissing her neck, biting her collarbone, setting her skin up to burn, disappears into a cloud of disappointment – body still shuddering under ghost touches of Joohyun, Wendy shifts to look for the source of her joy and distress.

 

Joohyun's rubbing her head, her back towards Wendy, sat up against the edge of the bed.

 

She listens to Joohyun mutter curses, her grumbles still managing to sound adorable despite the frustration coiled around it.

 

Wendy takes this opportunity to just breathe, allow the intimacy from just a few moments ago wash away from her mind, as well as the tingles that still sting the skin where Joohyun has marked. Wendy can't laugh it off this time – not when her heart is still running marathons.

 

When she's sure touching Joohyun won't make her jump and ravish the client out of need, Wendy reaches out to massage Joohyun's head, ignoring how their fingers bump together on her scalp.

 

Wendy swallows the lust that has accumulated in her throat, distracts herself with the band-aid she sees tied around Joohyun's index finger.

 

“You okay?”

 

Joohyun's nodding, throwing a smile – that looks more like a grimace, over her shoulder.

 

Wendy hates how much her simple response makes her want to kiss her more.

 

Aiming to hush the loud thrumming in her chest, and the excited butterflies screaming chaos in her stomach, she leans over the bed, places her lips against Joohyun's head, kissing lavender.

 

“Better?”

 

“I—” Joohyun pauses, sputtering. “Er, yes, thank you...?”

 

Wendy giggles, pretends her whole body isn't shouting at her to yank Joohyun in and capture her lips. She stays where she is, lying on her stomach, watching Joohyun gather herself from the edge of the bed.

 

Between the scent of lavender still stuck in her lungs and the flutter of white from Joohyun's open shirt when she finally stands, Wendy wonders how she's managed to control the needy heat twisting in her stomach.

 

Wendy slides her legs together, having them crossed, hoping that it'll stave off the warmth piling up.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Joohyun pauses at her question, pointing at the kettle still untouched.

 

“I'm going to make tea,” and as if in afterthought, “would you like some?”

 

Wendy recognizes the jitters in Joohyun's fingers, and smiles.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Joohyun walks off, sparing her no more glances, busying herself with making tea. Wendy isn't bothered by it – the silence hovering over them isn't unpleasant, but it's something more of a break; a pause to observe a change, and Wendy's grateful for it.

 

But her heart isn't; it's curious and hurt and still missing the reality of Joohyun above her, so Wendy can't help but ask.

 

“...Did you mean it?”

 

Cups clink against tiny plates.

 

“Mean what?”

 

Wendy bites her lip, sitting up.

 

“What you said earlier...” she clutches her chest, prays it quiets the drumming echoing even in her ears. “...are you really going to make me say it?”

 

Wendy's growing meek at her heart leaving her lips, the confidence often laced with her curiosity shrinking at the thought of speaking her diary thought.

 

_(“I want to kiss you, too.”)_

 

To think Joohyun had said that – Wendy would break if it were just a dream.

 

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but it must be long enough, for the kettle is hissing to a mere hum, smoke flickering out.

 

Joohyun's pouring tea into the cups, the soft sound of liquid swishing in ceramic not easing Wendy's timid lips. The question is stuck in her throat, between a mouth that's too afraid to say it, and an anxious tide rising in her chest.

 

“...I did,” Joohyun's voice relinquishes all the discord that paralyzes Wendy, “I meant it. I still do.”

 

Wendy jumps, startled at Joohyun's honesty. She leaves the bed towards Joohyun, clutching the end of Joohyun's shirt, the rest of her curiosity spilling through.

 

“Then why—” Wendy swallows, “...Why did you stop?” She urges Joohyun to turn around, face her completely, grasps Joohyun's cheeks. “...What's stopping you?”

 

Joohyun blinks.

 

“Because tea?” Wendy pouts, especially when Joohyun raises her cup. “Here, it's yours.”

 

She doesn't want it. She doesn't want tea, doesn't want her question derailed, and she certainly doesn't want Joohyun to get distracted by anything else but her.

 

Wendy redirects the offer, ushers Joohyun to place it back on the countertop, her fingers halting Joohyun's, her skin tingling at their touch.

 

“What's keeping you from kissing me?”

 

Joohyun frowns. “But I _did_ kiss you.”

 

“Yes, you did. You kissed me on my neck, my jaw, and even my chest.” Wendy lists, noting how Joohyun's ears begin to redden. “You touched me like you wanted me...” Wendy clutches the white that still dangles open; Joohyun probably hasn't realized her shirt is still unbuttoned. “...and then you stopped. Why did you stop?”

 

Joohyun keeps mum, even when Wendy steps closer, forces Joohyun to look at nothing else but her.

 

Wendy listens to her stutter.

 

“...I don't know. I just – I wasn't thinking, and then when I did, I stopped.” Joohyun frowns, bowing her head. “I find myself forgetting to think when I'm with you.”

 

Wendy can feel her heart pause in her chest.

 

Any frustration that swallowed Wendy, drowned her whole in questions of “Why”, washes away with Joohyun's confession.

 

Wendy holds Joohyun's face in gentle hands, raises her head, scrutinizes the way Joohyun's fallen silent again, like she had frozen under her touch, feeling her go rigid beneath her skin.

 

If anything, Joohyun looks surprised, as if their proximity makes her speechless (that wouldn't have made sense before, but after Joohyun's spilled diary, the dots finally connect together).

 

“Sorry,” Wendy says, smiling with a heart that's too happy. “I'm sorry I affect you that much.”

 

Joohyun scoffs. “No, you're not.”

 

Wendy giggles, tapping dancing fingers against the lines that define Joohyun's jaw.

 

“...Yeah, I'm not.” Wendy massages the tips of her nails down the curve that meets Joohyun's ear and neck. “...Thank you, though.”

 

“For what?”

 

Wendy drags her hands down the length of Joohyun's arms, caressing white sleeves, memorizing the slopes that had trapped her between them earlier, before settling on the lowest button of Joohyun's dress shirt.

 

She loops the circle back in its place, making her way upwards, buttoning them up again.

 

“For finding me irresistible like everyone else.”

 

Wendy laughs at Joohyun's snort, fingers still busily closing up the button that is about to hide Joohyun's black bra from sight.

 

“It's cute how we're matching.” Wendy says, grinning when Joohyun sighs.

 

When she closes up the final button on Joohyun's shirt, sealing up the skin that Wendy knows will now haunt her every dream, she tugs Joohyun's wrist.

 

“Now go get your tea because we're going to cuddle and watch TV.”

 

With Joohyun's laughter, they do exactly that, snuggled together beneath the sheets, sipping tea as old dramas flicker through the screen.

 

-

 

Like every Saturday morning, for the past few Saturdays she's been lucky enough to have, she wakes up to Joohyun.

 

And just like every moment where Joohyun's part of the equation, Wendy holds on tighter.

 

They share comfortable conversations about school, work, and Yerim, over a meal that doesn't fill her up as much as Joohyun's smile does. There's no mention of their intimacy last night; Wendy's happy for settling with Joohyun's silence on the matter, more than grateful that Joohyun doesn't change – even if something between them did.

 

Or at least, to Wendy.

 

Knowing Joohyun's not immune to her is enough to keep Wendy happy for weeks.

 

Probably.

 

“You didn't drive last night?” Wendy asks, the two of them stalling near the entrance of the hotel, breakfast settling comfortably in her stomach.

 

Joohyun had offered to give her a ride, and as soon as Wendy accepted it, she mentioned the lack of a vehicle of her own; which Wendy considered silly, but very cute, despite the circumstance. It only got more adorable when Joohyun said they should take a taxi together.

 

“Sooyoung needed the car,” Joohyun says, glancing around. “So I just took a cab.”

 

“And you still thought of giving me a ride?”

 

“Yes,” Joohyun is taking her hand, “why not?”

 

Wendy doesn't answer, more occupied with the feeling of Joohyun's fingers holding hers. Joohyun leads them to a waiting cab, and when they're seated, Wendy tells the driver her address, first.

 

“What happened?” Wendy asks, settling Joohyun's hand on her lap, held between her fingers.

 

She combs her thumb in gentle circles over the band-aid still wrapped around Joohyun's skin.

 

“Oh, I was cutting vegetables.” Joohyun's staring out the window, “And I got distracted.”

 

“By thoughts of me?”

 

Wendy's teasing, delight curling her lips, smiling when Joohyun rolls her eyes, silence coloring Joohyun's mouth again.

 

Wendy wonders if she's reading too much into it, the quiet sounding too close to a “Yes.”

 

Whether it's true or not, Wendy writes an apology by snuggling into Joohyun's side, massaging her fingers over Joohyun's knuckles, making sure she doesn't press down against the band-aid.

 

She's still joking, mumbling into Joohyun's shoulder.

 

“You don't have to think about me all the time, Hyunnie.” Wendy smiles at Joohyun's grumbling, “But I appreciate it.”

 

Joohyun's rapping her fingers along her palm, a cue to show she's heard. Wendy sighs with a smile, feeling calm under Joohyun's playful touches against her hand.

 

The radio is filled with hosts talking about the weather, a cluster of noises Wendy's not interested in listening to. The driver is kind enough to keep quiet; at least, he's not making her waste her breath with small talk.

 

With a right turn at the corner between the convenience store and a car repair shop, familiarity sinking into Wendy's mind of the route they're taking (roughly seventeen blocks from her apartment), Wendy's gaze shifts to the glowing red numbers counting up with each moment they spend in the cab.

 

She's ridden enough taxis to know how much the pay should be.

 

Wendy glances at Joohyun's wristwatch, remembering the time they had left the hotel. The rate isn't supposed to be that high when it's been merely fifteen minutes. How sly; money's hard to come by, and there's no way she'd let herself be swindled by a tampered machine. The driver's stiff glances their way from the rearview mirror is more than enough evidence for an impromptu sabotage.

 

But how?

 

“Are you still working next week?”

 

Joohyun’s question comes out of the blue. Wendy pays no mind to it, drumming her fingers along the back of Joohyun’s hand, thinking.

 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Do you work every night?”

 

Wendy shifts, looking up, resting her chin comfortably on Joohyun’s shoulder.

 

“Why do you ask?”

 

“I’m just curious.”

 

Joohyun’s clammed up, tight lips, but as much as Wendy wants to ask, her ears perk up at the sound of a familiar song that's part of her special playlist.

 

She's always wanted to play some music when Joohyun's around, though she's never mustered much courage to play the ones chosen specifically for sex.

 

Wendy won't waste this precious opportunity.

 

Squeezing Joohyun's hand, she tugs her closer so she could whisper into Joohyun's ear.

 

“Play along,”

 

She doesn't give Joohyun a chance to react, swinging her leg over Joohyun's hips, dress rising up her thighs so she can settle comfortably on her client's lap. Wendy's not shy at her lack of modesty, well aware of the intimacy it brings to have her underwear pressing against Joohyun's jeans. She smirks at Joohyun's wide eyes and gaping mouth.

 

Guiding Joohyun's hand to hold her steady, letting slim fingers curl against the back of her fur coat, Wendy makes Joohyun wrap an arm around her waist.

 

Wendy flicks the auburn off her shoulder, combing fingers through her hair to let it cascade in waves over her back, glancing at the taxi driver just behind her.

 

She's already smiling at the driver's face, recognizing the look mixed of horror and arousal. It'll work.

 

“Can you turn the music up a bit?”

 

Wendy lets her voice play sultry, squeezing smoothly between her teeth, letting her tongue roll syllables sweetly through her mouth.

 

When she hears the music bounce louder against the small room of the car, Wendy turns back to wink at Joohyun's frozen expression; as rigid as all the other times she's tried to touch the older woman.

 

“Try not to push me off this time, okay?” Wendy says, licking words against Joohyun's ear. “I'm counting on you.”

 

When she feels Joohyun mutely nod along her cheek, stiff but compliant, Wendy kisses the crisp edge of Joohyun's jaw as a reward for her obedience.

 

She leans back and presses hands onto Joohyun's shoulders, lets them act as leverage for added balance and smiles, an attempt to reassure her.

 

“Relax,” Wendy watches Joohyun avoid her gaze, “I'll make this worth your while.”

 

She's all too aware that she won't have a bulge to deal with when it's a woman she's on top of. Usually. But it'll still work its wonders – arousal's relatively easy to entice as long as there's physical contact. Riding a woman can be just as fun as riding a man.

 

Rocking Joohyun that one Saturday morning proved just as much.

 

It's automatic when her hips begin to move, rolling slowly against Joohyun in beat to the rhythm of a song she knows by heart. She could already see her dress rise up further, as well as the creases that form on the bottom of Joohyun's shirt, riding up.

 

She slithers a finger beneath Joohyun's chin so their eyes don't play hide-and-seek anymore. Wendy recognizes the mist in Joohyun’s eyes; a carnal emotion all her clients share when aroused.

 

But to have that same look on Joohyun – Wendy could already feel her body tremble.

 

Joohyun’s responses come faster than she expects: shallow breaths, half-lidded and dilated eyes, mouth parted to grit teeth, as if to hush the groan that still slips past her lips at every rolling motion Wendy makes against her hips.

 

She's learned with every partner she's ever had that, as much as one would want to deny temptation right before them, their body can't help but react; it's primal and raw and Wendy is loving Joohyun's lacking inhibition.

 

It's thrilling to know that she could make Joohyun hungry for her. Though last night already proved it to be true.

 

But in true Joohyun fashion, she still tries to argue.

 

“S-Seungwan...”

 

It's weak and breathy and heavy and low, like a growl about to erupt from her throat, clawing at the walls, her voice so thick with want.

 

Joohyun sounds uncharacteristically feral. It's as if the seams that hold Joohyun back are stretched out to its limit – Wendy wonders if it will truly snap, today.

 

Wendy leans in, tugging at the lone button of Joohyun's denim jeans and kisses her cheek. Time to test just how much self-control her adorable client has.

 

She smiles at the sound of Joohyun holding her breath, feels the way her chest rises up to a pause. Wendy spots how Joohyun's free hand opens and close, like it's trying to resist, laid out helplessly on the seat.

 

Wendy curls strands of hair behind soft flesh to whisper words in Joohyun's ear, making sure Joohyun can't mishear it over the sound of music and the creaking leather of their seat.

 

“...Touch me,”

 

Protest looks like it's forming on the edges of Joohyun's lips again, a frown beginning to line her mouth. But Wendy hushes her by diving in, raking her teeth along the plane of Joohyun's neck to the curve of her shoulder, peeling back the familiar crisp material of her collar.

 

She’ll take this opportunity to punish Joohyun for last night.

 

Her hand dips down the center of Joohyun's chest, fingers sliding to feel for the first button, unclasping it so her mouth could trail lower to kiss the smooth contour of Joohyun's collarbone.

 

When Joohyun groans from her bite, Wendy feels fire burn in her stomach, ears craving for that sound again, digging teeth into skin, and making her mark.

 

Vanilla and lavender fills her senses into overdrive, where the music is no longer playing in her ears but the grunts and groans and moans Joohyun makes under her, in tune with each squeak of the taxi's chair.

 

Wendy giggles against Joohyun's jaw when she feels the woman's hand crawl up her back – finally returning her touches, her fingers curling around the back of Wendy's head. The other arm stays safely tucked around Wendy's hips, a loyal support to keep her from falling.

 

She can’t help but tease her.

 

“Do something useful with that mouth of yours for once and kiss me.”

 

It's nothing but her typical attempt at banter, expectations nonexistent – especially after last night, but when Joohyun leans in, hesitation lining her lips, Wendy can't help but choke on the surprise.

 

Wendy gasps into a soft kiss she's not quite prepared for, excitement shooting up her chest the moment she feels Joohyun press closer.

 

It's shy, how Joohyun's lips touch hers as if afraid of melting into her, but despite the brief graze of contact that's too chaste for Wendy's liking, it tells her just how much Joohyun couldn't resist.

 

The happiness spiraling up her chest is overwhelming.

 

She's a stuttering mess when Joohyun pulls back, just enough for Wendy to rest her forehead against Joohyun's and find her breath that isn't filling up her lungs any faster.

 

“You really _do_ know how to follow instructions, Hyunnie.”

 

Wendy is rewarded with a small laugh, and a tighter grip around her waist.

 

Her breath hitches when Joohyun shifts to nestle in Wendy's shoulder, whisper words along the lines of her neck, scarring heat across her skin and into her bones.

 

“...You never give me a chance to think, do you?” Joohyun’s voice sounds more like a lioness, baring teeth. “…You don’t even call me ‘unnie’.”

 

Wendy doesn't get to respond, not when Joohyun begins to kiss her skin a second later, blistering this time, as if to punish. Her pulse rate skyrockets when she feels the wet flick of Joohyun's tongue. Gone were the tender touches, and fleeting soft kisses.

 

Wendy gasps at the touch, her chest in flames when Joohyun's teeth begins to scrape her neck, leaving her dizzy and excruciatingly hot under gentle bites, before they’re smothered by her tongue.

 

Joohyun's licking her.

 

It sounds too good to be true.

 

But Wendy's groaning under hungry lips, shutting her eyes at the way Joohyun maps her skin with teeth and tongue and thinks – this is all real.

 

Oh _god—_

 

Wendy's already craving for more. Letting go of every inhibition, Wendy cradles Joohyun's face, bringing her up, hungry for a taste of her lips again. When she speaks, voice barely masking the desire on her tongue, Wendy's not asking.

 

“Kiss me like you mean it.”

 

Joohyun responds quicker than Wendy could ever guess.

 

Wendy isn't given any notice when Joohyun pulls her in, their mouths crashing together, that vanilla she's grown accustomed to smelling finally melting on her tongue. Wendy groans at Joohyun's bite to her bottom lip, feeling her nibble on the flesh, Joohyun's aggression a pleasant surprise – she didn't think her cute client had it in her.

 

Wendy can't help but swallow when their lips break apart, tilting her head back only so Joohyun's roaming mouth can explore the rest of her skin, feeling chaste kisses pepper along her chin, down her jaw, to the lines of her neck. It’s a repeat of last night, or a continuation, Wendy’s not quite sure. Her mind is going dizzy, heat blazing up to her cheeks.

 

Her fur coat has slipped off her shoulders to dangle at her elbows, her tube dress proving useless from the shower of Joohyun's kisses scrawling her skin.

 

“Hyun...”

 

She can't help but moan her name, butcher it into half because Joohyun's shortened her breath enough to have all of her thoughts sizzle into a single syllable.

 

Wendy's hands have nestled in Joohyun's hair, fingers tangled in soft locks, urging Joohyun to kiss her harder, hold her tighter – panting and mewling with every scarring touch Joohyun tattoos on her.

 

The scramble of noises that leave Wendy's mouth only gets louder when Joohyun's hips rise up to match her rhythm, the friction they make together enticing a stronger hunger entirely.

 

A spring is coiling tighter in her stomach, heat beginning to pool between her legs. Wendy knows what that means and she is vexed that Joohyun's nowhere near it to satiate her. She's getting sick of the clothes on their skin. Fast.

 

Her hands fumble for the belt tied around Joohyun’s jeans, managing to unbuckle it after the fifth attempt. Wendy wastes no time with the lone button on her pants, plucking it open, before fiddling with the zipper, getting lost amidst the kisses she's being showered with. Joohyun's painting her mouth and teeth and tongue along the landscape of Wendy's chest, feeling her client mark with scars of a possibility for more – dangerously going lower. Wendy could feel Joohyun's fingers clasp the zipper on the back of her dress, undoubtedly about to slide it off of her.

 

Wendy doesn't realize the car has stopped until the driver coughs, his voice too deep and raspy, like sandpaper has been lodged in his throat, the music coming back into her ears; she’s forgotten there were other sounds besides the woman beneath her.

 

“W-We're here, ma'am.”

 

Taking her time because she hates getting interrupted, even when she knows she started this first, Wendy uncurls her fingers from Joohyun's soft hair, her hips slowing to a stop, combing her hand over her own unkempt tresses to twist around and look at him clearly.

 

She gives him a smile, the act hard to muster when there’s still a hot want looming in Wendy’s chest at Joohyun's panting breath, coloring her neck. Joohyun has stopped kissing her, but her breath is still tickling her skin.

 

“Oh, right. Thank you.”

 

She watches him gulp from the rear view mirror before pushing the door open, sliding off Joohyun's lap, catching Joohyun's half-lidded gaze, tugging the woman's wrist.

 

“Come on, baby. Let's not keep the bed waiting.” Wendy makes sure her lips write words against Joohyun's ear, yet still loud enough for a particular viewer to hear. “I want to be your everything, tonight.”

 

Wendy winks at the driver before waving him off, watching him pull out from the curb (she never realized he had parked improperly until his tire bumps back down to meet the street from the sidewalk), before he's zooming out into the distance.

 

It worked.

 

“W-What...” Joohyun's grasping her head, “...What was that for?”

 

Wendy grins at Joohyun's breathy confusion, the woman's eyes no longer clouded with the lust she had mutually shared just moments before, spotting the red mark she's left on her client's skin on the space between her neck and shoulder.

 

Wendy's hands come up to clasp back the button she had loosened off on Joohyun's shirt, cleaning up her collar so it doesn't provide evidence of their moment in the car.

 

“I didn't want us to pay for botched fare, so I paid him with something else in full.”

 

A couple of blinks are given her way before Joohyun laughs, her pale cheeks coming back from their warm shade of pink.

 

“Did you do this with other clients?”

 

Wendy smiles, the lie coming off as easy as the buttons she's so used to plucking off, fixing stray strands on Joohyun's head.

 

“Yes. It's fun.”

 

No, she's never done it.

 

Never once had she met up with her clients outside of working hours; they always ended in the hotel room. And if the client had asked for a date before the sex with a trip to the hotel in a taxi they'd share, her client always paid both out of courtesy and show of power and status. Whatever fun time they’d share, Wendy made sure to keep it in the bedroom.

 

Joohyun is nodding, soaking her words in, an “Ah,” leaving her lips, like the words make sense and it explains every possible action Wendy's done in the car.

 

Wendy wants to ask something she's not sure she's allowed to. Would she scare Joohyun off if she questioned the kisses they had shared in the cab? Would it be appropriate to bring up their intimacy that had begun from last night?

 

“Well, I guess I should get going now.” Joohyun's back to her normal self – polite, modest, and stiff. “I'll see you Friday, Seungwan.”

 

Wendy shifts to clutch Joohyun's wrist just as she turns, pretending not to hear how much her heart has yet to stop racing. Joohyun's ignited a blaze she can't hold in – at least, not until it's been settled.

 

“You're just going to leave me like this?”

 

Wendy's well aware of the constant throbbing between her thighs and the tight coil in her stomach. She's been aroused more times than she could count, but she's never had to worry about looking for release when it always happens right after all the fondling. No client leaves her physically unsatisfied – though they could certainly improve on their stamina.

 

Joohyun's tilting her head, that innocent curiosity lighting up along her face.

 

“Like what?”

 

“You made me wet, Joohyun.”

 

It comes off as a joke on her tongue, but Wendy knows it's a truth she can't hide.

 

Joohyun stares at her, keeping mum. Wendy tries not to squirm at the arousal between her legs. God, it's so annoying. But what bothers her more is the fact that Joohyun looks completely unaffected.

 

Did their touchy exchange not faze Joohyun at all? Not even a little bit?

 

“Then go dry yourself?”

 

Wendy groans, pushing her hair back.

 

She leaves Joohyun in a hurry, twisting around towards her apartment – out of an insatiable necessity and volcanic frustration, only muttering a quick, “It's fine” to Joohyun's sweet offer of, “Let me walk you home”.

 

It's the first time a rejection leaves her mouth for Joohyun – for something as petty as her inability to connect the dots. Joohyun's a medical student – there was no way she wouldn't have known what Wendy was implying.

 

As much as she adores Joohyun's indifference to a certain tension that seems to only be eating up at Wendy, she'd appreciate it if Joohyun could take a hint.

 

-

 

Irene feels like she did something wrong.

 

Even when she's in the comfort of Sooyoung's car, chin propped up on a hand, leaning against the door to stare at flitting images of autumn with its colored leaves, all she sees is Seungwan's half-hearted smile and clacking steps hurrying to disappear.

 

“So...” Sooyoung starts, spinning the volume dial lower. “...why do you look like you just got kicked to the curb and was left to rot there?”

 

Irene snorts. “You make it sound like I got left behind,”

 

“Well, I would think you'd look more relaxed, all things considered.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Sooyoung's pointing at something below. “Your belt is unbuckled.”

 

Irene thought she meant the seatbelt, until she's looking down and the sight of her brown belt is indeed still open, her jeans thankfully zipped up, though her button is still out loose.

 

She groans in her hand, shrinking in her seat, knowing full well by the sound of Sooyoung's cackling that she'll never live it down.

 

“I was expecting you to come up with a stupid lie like you forgot to close it,” Sooyoung pauses, “thankfully you didn't, or else you'd be twice as embarrassed when I tell you you've got a little something there, too.”

 

Irene traces the spot Sooyoung's referring to, feeling along her collarbone, the touch of something soft and glossy sticking onto her fingers. She raises her hand to find flecks of reddish pink.

 

Sooyoung giggles. “Wendy always did seem to like the color red.”

 

Nothing comes up in her head – no excuses, no lies, no truths – Irene is left with a blank slate in a mind that’s suddenly empty. It doesn’t help when Sooyoung’s grin stretches the expanse of her face – so wide and bright and scarring.

 

Irene blinks at the pat to her knee.

 

“So,” Sooyoung’s eyes are practically laughing, “was it wild, hot, rough, sex? Or soft, gentle, and passionately, sweet?”

 

Irene doesn’t bother entertaining her question.

 

-

 

When the door shuts, Wendy's quick to pull her phone out, stumbling for the mobile littered inside her purse.

 

She needs to get rid of this ache.

 

“Hey, could you come over? I need you.”

 

She spews out her address like tumbling water from a broken dam, feeling rushed to get things done quickly. She hates being left alone like this.

 

Wendy knows she's breaking her rules again and again.

 

But it doesn't matter anymore when Joohyun has left her feeling like this, so uncomfortably needy, wanting to satiate this throbbing between her legs.

 

So when he comes knocking at her door fifteen minutes later, she's already pulling him in by a kiss, hungry to please the feral want in her stomach and the overwhelming feeling of needing to be touched.

 

She's leading him to her couch, stumbling backwards onto leather as he climbs over, eager to please her.

 

Wendy lets him touch her, lets him carve over skin that Joohyun has and hasn't yet marked with her own lips, attempting to ease the frustration in her own heart.

 

To think she had brought this on herself; she had made Joohyun kiss her in the car, made her react in a way Wendy had never anticipated (yet hoped would happen – so much).

 

And now she has to settle the aching in her chest and the arousal between her legs with someone who doesn't compare.

 

“Looks like someone's already been with you,” he says, lips brushing her neck. “How recent are these?”

 

Wendy can't respond when he's nibbling her skin, a spot where she remembers Joohyun had scoured earlier. She didn't check to see if Joohyun had left marks behind; she should have, if only to memorize how deep Joohyun had drawn over her.

 

It's too late now though, when he's sketching his mouth over her skin, scraping his lips and teeth as if to paint over them. But that's not why she called him in the first place. She needs to bring him back on track.

 

Wendy pulls him close, away from the marks Joohyun had left her (she hopes they're still there), and growls in his ear.

 

“Just clean me up.”

 

Wendy's not surprised that he obeys (he's always been good like that), feeling him nod against her cheek, her eyelashes dancing along his skin as he moves lower.

 

When his fingers slip off her lace underwear, feeling the silk material slide off her legs, Wendy ignores his amused whisper, preferring to keep silent.

 

“...You're soaking wet,”

 

Wendy knows who's completely at fault. To think Joohyun isn't the one to clean up after the mess she's left her in, too – how ridiculous.

 

She's about to scold him for doing nothing (what was he even doing – admiring how drenched Joohyun left her to be?) until he's muttering again, kissing words along the inside of her thigh, nearing her center. Wendy shudders from the moisture that continues to drip, Joohyun still present behind her eyes.

 

It's maddening.

 

“I wish you'd be just like this when you're with me on Tuesdays.”

 

Before Wendy could even breathe a retort, his breath has her curling in, stiffening at the hot breeze to her sensitive flesh. Wendy's throwing her head back at the warm touch of his tongue inside her. Her breaths come shorter, her muscles going tighter.

 

Wendy feels the way his mouth explores her, tongue sliding across to lap her up, before it wiggles deeper and makes her breathe out in gasps. She buckles over when it plunges in, so damn slowly.

 

Wendy tries to convince herself that his mouth is better than Joohyun's.

 

She tries to convince herself that Joohyun is inexperienced; that she has no idea how to play with her tongue, lick her skin, move around; but even when Wendy curls her fingers tighter into his hair, biting her lip, moaning at his warm breath breezing against her, Wendy swears at how much he doesn't compare.

 

Joohyun's mouth made her skin flare, scorched her down and burned her chest.

 

And she hadn't even been inside her.

 

Having felt how Joohyun could touch her, kiss her – Wendy's afraid at the high possibility that her clients will all fall short.

 

She's afraid that every touch she'll ever feel, every moment she spends with someone who isn't Joohyun, she'll be wishing that she was.

 

That isn't supposed to happen.

 

But here she is, wishing that he was Joohyun, and the next, pretending that he _is._

 

Wendy moans as soon as Joohyun clouds her mind's eye, senses heightening and body trembling in the illusion that Joohyun's the one between her thighs, mapping her inside. Her heart grows louder, almost unbearable, as if to break her ribcage and tear her ears apart. It only gets worse when his _– her,_ fingers wiggle inside, making Wendy twitch under the pressure.

 

Her hips move to meet more friction, deeper against probing fingers and a roaming tongue.

 

All she can see is Joohyun.

 

Joohyun,

 

Joohyun,

 

_Joohyun._

 

When she comes, blinding white blurring her eyes, ears still pounding and chest still aching, her body shaking under the warm heat, Wendy almost lets slip Joohyun's name. It dissipates from her tongue, a sigh escaping instead, as he – _she,_ drinks her in.

 

All she can feel is Joohyun.

 

Joohyun,

 

Joohyun,

 

_Joohyun._

 

But the illusion is gone as soon as he rises to kiss her, inhaling his musk scent and not Joohyun's signature of vanilla and lavender.

 

Wendy whimpers at the reality, a noise he covers with lips that aren't _hers._ How cruel.

 

He's one of the few clients who loves giving her oral; Wendy's used to doing most of the work with other clients, so it's always pleasant to have him be her reliable release on Tuesdays. To think she'd find a man who loves Dining at the Y as much as he does – what a keeper.

 

Standing on weak legs, pretending her knees aren’t jittering, she ushers him out the door. She’s rubbing his back, says the obligatory, “I had fun, too” before confirming his appointment for the coming Tuesday, and closing it shut.

 

Wendy stays pressed against the door for a little longer, just so she could steady herself, ease the trembling still coiling her limbs. When strength gathers in her legs, Wendy’s wobbling back to her room, burying herself into her blankets and snuggling into the button-up that Joohyun had given her weeks ago.

 

She doesn't care that there was no money; it was the weekend and besides, she needed release more than a bundle of creased paper. She needed to make sure that a man could still pleasure her enough to forget Joohyun.

 

But of course he didn't. Not entirely, when Joohyun's still all she sees, all she feels, all she wants.

 

She knows what that means.

 

At least there's one good thing out of all of this, and that's improving her sex life with the other clients. Thinking about Joohyun had aroused her easily – all too aware of her spiked responses earlier, that maybe it’ll help having to deal with poor performers who can't pleasure her enough to orgasm in bed.

 

It'll also probably help her enjoy them more if she could pretend that Joohyun's the one touching her.

 

Thank goodness she has a separate home for a separate life – she doesn’t need Yerim walking in on any of her clandestine adventures.

 

Nestling into the smooth material of the woman's shirt, nose digging between the creases, Wendy attempts to look for that tinge of vanilla and lavender to wrap herself in.

 

But they're fading off already, barely present. It's not enough, anymore.

 

Feeling both spontaneous and this inexplicable urge to talk to Joohyun, Wendy texts her, bares her heart in more ways than she could count; in words of black and white (she doesn't think she could handle hearing her voice – she might say too much).

 

_(If you had the chance to think, would you still kiss me?)_

Sender: Wendy

Sent: 9:38:36 PM

Sent: 11/16/17

 

She doesn't expect Joohyun to respond so quickly, flicking her screen open.

 

_(Go sleep. It's late.)_

Sender: Miss Cute Button-Up

Sent: 9:38:46 PM

Sent: 11/16/17

 

Wendy laughs, both wistful and happy at such a Joohyun response.

 

_(Help me, then.)_

 

Sender: Wendy

Sent: 9:39:01 PM

Sent: 11/16/17

 

Wendy doesn't expect Joohyun to call her, fumbling with her phone when the screen lights up and Joohyun’s name is blinking like a warning sign. It brings panic in her chest, and delight.

 

“H-Hello?”

 

She wants to curse herself at her stutter.

 

_“In a nucleus, far far away...”_

 

Cradling her phone close, Wendy listens to Joohyun's adorable attempt to lull her to sleep. But she stays up to hear her voice and memorize the rise and dip in her syllables.

 

She keeps quiet when Joohyun pauses several minutes later.

 

_“...Seungwan?”_

 

Wendy restrains herself from responding, preferring to stay silent so she could hear what Joohyun will do. She wants to finally witness how Joohyun handles her when she's asleep.

 

Wendy hears shuffling on the other end, like scrambles of paper, before it's gone.

 

_“Sweet dreams.”_

 

She tries not to say it in return, pursing her lips, swallowing a “good night” before it could slip out of her mouth. Wendy expects the call to end with Joohyun hanging up, but not the soft sound of Joohyun's breathing, their call still intact.

 

Wendy stays up for an hour, and when she knows that Joohyun's undoubtedly asleep, the sounds of her breath a calming song Wendy won’t ever get sick of, she whispers her shy heart into the receiver.

 

“…Sweet dreams, unnie.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23,084 words. That is insane. On another note, here is an M rated chapter – and as a result, this story will now be under the M category.
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update. Until next time.
> 
>  


	6. Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy starts her Wednesday with a bowl of cereal and a banana.

Wendy starts her Wednesday with a bowl of cereal and a banana.

 

Streams of sunlight peek through her windowsill, casting shadows in lines like a striped shirt at seven in the morning.

 

Her cellphone is heavy in her hand, the weight due to a text message composed of short sentences reminding her of an event scheduled for later this week.

 

_(Don't forget; dress to impress for Friday night’s dinner. My family aren’t very nice to people who don’t look good. But I know you always look good. I can't wait to see you again.)_

Sender: Frat Boy

Sent: 7:52:33 AM

Sent: 11/20/17

 

Wendy snorts, running her tongue across the edge of her ceramic cup to take in the last drops of coffee, setting her phone aside so that she won’t have to stare at the obnoxiously bright screen and equally-obnoxious text.

 

Accompanying a client and playing as their girlfriend can be loads of fun. But pretending with a bunch of aristocrats who can’t appreciate hard work and lack respect for all sorts of struggles to make ends meet is more headache than Wendy would like to deal with.

 

At least he’s the typical rich frat boy who throws away his parents’ money like another pair of underwear when a woman walks by. A few strokes of his ego here and there, and she would probably have, at minimum, half a year’s worth of escort services filled and a fat bank account. She might even catch a break for an entire year free of hotels and men if all goes well.

 

Guess she’ll have to play extra nice Friday night.

 

Wendy sighs, circling the edges of her cup with a lazy finger.

 

Good thing it doesn't clash with her time saved for Joohyun later that same evening; enjoying the last few hours of a dark sky with her favorite client and knowing she won’t need to satisfy anyone else for a little while sounds like a dream Wendy would love to sleep to every night.

 

Wendy perks up at the sound of a creaking door, stuffing her cellphone in her pocket, thankful for the oversized sweatpants and its ease of covering up skin bruised with bites for kisses.

 

The Biter moving to Tuesdays because he couldn't make it to Wednesday evenings is fine; it just sucks that a single morning isn't enough to erase his ghost still lingering on her legs and arms and torso.

 

Most clients aren’t appreciative of marks being made to remind them that she isn’t theirs (annoying how they can't seem to wrap their heads around the fact that she belongs to no one), but at least her regular Tuesday man who’s into oral sex is forgiving enough of bruises; even willingly moved his appointment one hour later to accommodate her.

 

Then again, all he wants to do is go down under; not that Wendy could ever complain.

 

“You're up early.”

 

Wendy watches Yeri emerge from her respective bedroom, dragging her squirtle slippers across the floor.

 

Mussed pyjamas and a bedhead is a sight Wendy always enjoys seeing, smiling when Yeri settles beside her on the table.

 

“Yeah…” Yeri muffles a yawn behind her hand, muttering a “Thank you” when Wendy passes over her respective bowl of cereal. “When did you get back, unnie?”

 

Wendy fixes stray strands on Yeri's head, listens to her munch on breakfast.

 

“Around midnight.” Yeri nods to her answer, “You know how it is.”

 

She doesn’t head straight to her shared home with Yeri after her appointments for a lot of different reasons. One, she can't handle looking at Yeri knowing she had just had sex with someone for money. Two, she prefers having a bit of alone time set aside for herself after work, relaxing in her smaller apartment answering emails and sorting out her schedule for the week.

 

Yeri hums. “Singers giving you a hard time with your compositions?”

 

Wendy musters up a smile.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“They should go write their own songs then.”

 

Lie after lie and it still doesn't get any easier when it comes to Yeri.

 

It's not like Yeri's too young to know her line of work; she's already a young adult wiser than most of her peers. But Wendy would rather hide a special secret if it means keeping this innocent peace; not to have her look at her any differently; have a home to come to and leave her nightlife behind without being reminded of it with pity-filled stares and judgment.

 

Yeri doesn't have to know that the only reason she could afford her education and their apartment - their livelihood, is because she caters to people's sexual fantasies.

 

So she settles for telling Yeri her pipe dream.

 

“But I love writing music for people to sing,” Wendy nudges Yeri's elbow. “So it's okay if they don't like it. I can always adjust it. Making a song is a team effort, you know.”

 

Yeri sighs, circling her spoon, the soft swish of milk and clinks of porcelain coiling into Wendy's ears.

 

“Fine, you softie.” The spoon is raised to point, trickles of white slipping down gray edges. “Just as long as you're doing okay and they're not pushing you around.”

 

Wendy's heart swells despite the glare Yeri sends her way, reaching up to ruffle copper hair, giggling at bedhead that only gets worse.

 

“Of course, Yerim.”

 

Slouching over the table, smothering her nose against the sleeves of Joohyun’s gifted button-up, Wendy spends her quiet morning watching Yeri devour her cereal, finding calm in knowing that she still has something as normal as this.

 

Wendy buries deeper into jean-blue sleeves.

 

The fact that the scent of vanilla and lavender no longer exists in them is distracting.

 

-

 

Considering that her Wednesdays are now free, (her regular recently got married and thus, left her a goodbye present of a new wardrobe and bags), Wendy has the entire day to do absolutely nothing.

 

Which is why she's currently out window shopping dressed in Prada with Dior hanging off her elbow, all the while Yeri's off at school.

 

Her classes don't end until five in the afternoon so she has plenty of time to stroll about - not that she has many places to explore.

 

Wendy sighs, dreading the inevitable boredom that'll come along as soon as she's finished her cycle around the mall, already familiar with most of the stores except a few newly opened.

 

“Wendy?”

 

Her Alexander Wang’s clack to a stop, heels spinning to find Joy in all her towering glory, that signature grin plastered along her lips.

 

Wendy tucks auburn behind her ear.

 

“Hey.”

 

“That's it?” Joy looks annoyingly chirpy at ten in the morning with her hand on her hip and her head cocked to the side. “I bet you would've been all flirty with me if I was Joohyun.”

 

She arches a brow, a twitch of a smile creeping up her lips.

 

“You’re not wrong.” Wendy flicks a few strands over her shoulder. “Where is she, anyway?”

 

Joy rolls her eyes, the lack of surprise on her expression too telling.

 

“Working.”

 

“When will she be off?”

 

Joy starts walking, ushering her to follow with a tilt of her head.

 

“Until four in the morning.” Joy’s long beige coat ends at the bottom of her knees, legs dressed in black jeans, her leather heeled boots clacking with each stride. “Do you know where I can find a store that tailors suits?”

 

Wendy's expression scrunches up. “For men or women?”

 

“Women.”

 

She nods, leading Joy to a custom tailor at the west end of the mall, curiosity peaking as she watches Joy sweep through suits, ranging from royal blue to pitch black.

 

Wendy jumps when Joy raises two to compare, hears her hum like it'll jog her thought process.

 

“Which one turns you on more?”

 

Joy's question has Wendy coughing out air, startled at both the content of what she's asking and the smug smile drawn on her lips.

 

“W-Why?” Wendy’s straightening up to stave off the amused glow across Joy's eyes.

 

“Just wondering.” Joy shrugs, returning both on the rack without waiting to hear her judgment. “Maybe a new outfit could get you to be flirty with me too.”

 

“Why not a dress?”

 

“I prefer less skin.” Joy’s gaze wanders along a violet lapel.

 

Wendy snorts, crossing arms as Joy continues to flicker through assortments of blazers.

 

“Really? I didn't think you were the conservative type.”

 

Wendy watches a small smile write across Joy's skin, the Giant’s silence being her only response.

 

From her brief observations of Joy, the Giant is a natural flirt all on her own. If anything, she could probably use her tall stature to her advantage; show off long legs to catch stares and entice money to fall from drooling mouths and eager pleasers. Joy has no problem saying what she thinks, especially if it's to tease. But Wendy isn’t into losing.

 

Might as well play along; kill time while she waits for Yerim to come back from school.

 

“That one.” Wendy points at a suit drawn in charcoal black, “You can never go wrong with a shade like that. Especially with a black dress shirt and shoes.”

 

Joy hums, nodding before she pats Wendy's back.

 

“Does it turn you on?”

 

“Is that all you can think about?” Wendy smirks, “How to turn me on?”

 

“Isn’t that all _you_ can think about when it comes to Joohyun unnie?” Joy’s not even looking at her, more focused on the suit she’s holding, which wounds Wendy more than she’d like to admit. “How to turn her on?”

 

God, Joy hits the mark way too often sometimes.

 

There's laughter bubbling at the base of Joy's throat; Wendy could feel it.

 

“I would tell you what Joohyun unnie is into,” a wink is sent her way, “but I'd rather you figure it out on your own.”

 

Wendy twitches, tries not to show she's bothered by the fact that Joy even knows something as intimate as that. Then again, Joy could easily be lying about it too. Just to rile her up.

 

“So does it turn you on?” Joy's back to her original question, the cause of this mess.

 

Wendy looks elsewhere, already feeling her entire body flush at the memory of Joy's snappy remark, shrugging and waving a hand as if it could hold off the warm pink rising up her skin. She pretends that Joy's point-blank question doesn't fluster her as much as it actually does.

 

“Sure. Whatever.”

 

Isn't Joy just pulling her leg? She can't genuinely be interested in her, right? Joy is already aware of her childishly-naive and impulsive attraction to Joohyun. She’s been practically bulldozing her with it – running her over again and again of the obvious that Wendy wonders how Joohyun herself hasn’t noticed it yet.

 

“Makes you super wet just by looking at it?”

 

The flaring heat gradually crawling up Wendy's neck only rises faster, attempting to swallow it down but it's already burning her cheeks.

 

Joy's so shamelessly _loud._ Wendy already feels the store clerk's stare melting against the back of her head.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” She tries nonchalance; anything to keep the embarrassment from creeping up to her ears, voice hushed, mumbling. “It gets me soaked just thinking about it. Drenched, even. Happy?”

 

“Very,” Joy bumps her elbow, laughing as she pulls it off the rack, treading forward. “I'll take it.”

 

Wendy sighs, relieved that it's over, feeling warmth gradually fade off her skin, dissipate like smoke. Maybe she shouldn't have bothered playing along at all. Joy's exhausting.

 

“Got a special occasion to attend?” Wendy watches Joy pass it over to the tailor, catching her wrench out a piece of paper from her pocket; it's littered with numbers. “Maybe even a funeral?”

 

Joy's smile twitches at the corners, creeping up into a grin filled with pearly whites.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Wendy narrows her eyes, suspicion seeping into her head, whirling away for reasons as to why Joy looks like she's already won. At what, she has no clue. But Wendy knows she doesn't like it; not when Joy's face appears too eager to crack into laughter at any second.

 

It's only when Joy receives the receipt and assurance that the suit will be ready for pick up at ten-thirty tomorrow morning that Wendy understands Joy's twinkling eyes and blinding white grin.

 

Not like Joy's been doing much to hide her attempts at holding in her giggles with her hands on her stomach and mouth as soon as they’re out of the shop.

 

She should've noticed it the moment Joy mentioned preferring less skin.

 

“...It's for Joohyun, isn't it.”

 

Joy's boisterous laughter a second later is earsplitting.

 

“Oh man, hahaha, I _can't—_ ” Joy's wiping off tears from her eyelids, bent over as if to stumble that Wendy considers kicking her to make her face-plant completely. “I thought you'd catch on faster because of the smaller measurement sizes but I guess not.”

 

Wendy groans in her hands. She should've paid more attention to those numbers.

 

Joy's patting her shoulder, still panting from her loud (and growing even louder) bouts of laughter.

 

“Look on the bright side, you probably won't get to see her wear it, anyway.”

 

Despite Joy's poor attempt at making her feel better (if it could even be called that), Wendy only feels more disappointment.

 

God, she hates Joy.

 

“Don't worry,” Wendy swats away Joy's prodding elbow to her ribs, “I won't tell her that you picked it out for her. Unless you want me to?”

 

Heat begins to spike up her skin again, quicker this time, just shy below her eyes.

 

“No, it's fine.” Wendy scowls at how fast she is to respond, a window to her stumbling heart, cheeks glowing that familiar shade of warm pink. “Joohyun doesn't need to know.”

 

She catches Joy's wink, listening to her giggles that sounds both overwhelmingly happy and frighteningly ominous.

 

“My lips are sealed.”

 

Wendy highly doubts it.

 

She should get out while she still can; leave before Joy reads her any more deeper than necessary. She already knows too much.

 

“Are we done here?” Wendy asks amidst the massage she gives herself against her temple.

 

Joy's chuckles only make the headache coming on, stronger.

 

“You talk like I'm forcing you to stick around with me.”

 

How Joohyun manages to be seemingly best friends with Joy is a mystery. Then again, maybe Joohyun's patience doesn't run out as fast, or isn't as thin as a sheet of plastic.

 

Wendy readjusts her Dior over her elbow, spinning on her Alexander Wang’s, passing a dismissive wave. Joy is great company despite the constant embarrassments she's often subjected to, but Wendy's not about to let Joy continue to read her like an open script and say all the lines out loud.

 

With Joy, humor is a psychologist’s checklist.

 

Besides, with how Joy carries herself, upright posture as if to exude control, she's not sure if Joy's just a typical manager at a telemarketing company. Joohyun’s lied to her before – it isn’t out of place to be safe and assume her cute client’s given her another set of sprinkled words.

 

Wendy pretends it doesn’t hurt that Joohyun’s already lied to her face once before. And what if there’s more? Wendy doesn’t know how to distinguish the truth when it comes to Joohyun; not when she wants every word from Joohyun’s lips to be _true._

 

Especially the ones that make her heart run miles on end, stumbling all the way through but still makes her feel like she’s flying.

 

“I guess I'll see you around then.”

 

Wendy turns, shifting to walk.

 

“What keeps you from leaving?” Joy’s voice has a strength she can’t decipher; more quiet than the usual loud she often speaks with. “The escort business, I mean.”

 

The clacks of her heels pause, halting to let the question sink in. It's none of Joy’s business, or anyone's, really.

 

“I thought you just said you weren’t forcing me to stick around.” Wendy says over her shoulder coated in Prada.

 

Joy shrugs. “I'm not.”

 

Wendy fiddles with the strap of her bag. She thinks of Yeri and her education and their livelihood and how much happiness she could afford for the both of them because no one else can.

 

“Because it pays more than just the bills, especially on a good night.” Wendy licks her lips, moistens chapped pink. “And I'm making people happy.”

 

Joy’s brows furrow; crinkling up skin between tiny hairs, her lips curled upside down.

 

“Would you ever quit?”

 

Wendy laughs, tugging her purse, making strides towards anywhere but here and away from Joy's questions that sounds too much like care.

 

She hopes the clicks of her heels drown out every affectionate itch from Joy's voice that’s stuck to her ears like plaque and excess wax.

 

She's starting to sound like Joohyun.

 

“Not even if Joohyun's the one who asked.”

 

-

 

Irene slips off her white coat for the day, leaving it hanging on a steel hook before shutting her locker, the soft clang at three-thirty in the morning a sound she adores knowing it's the end of her shift.

 

Jacket in hand, Irene pilfers for her keys in her pocket, the jingles of metal tinkling along to the thuds of her leather boots, relief escaping her lips as a sigh that another day passes without much trouble.

 

She bows her goodbyes and weaves around long lines of patients and nurses, jolting at a pat on her shoulder just before she makes it to the sliding doors.

 

Seulgi’s smile looks suspicious.

 

“I’ve been meaning to say that it was entertaining to see you two talk during dinner, unnie."

 

Of course.

 

Irene groans, pushing her hair back. She isn't all that fond of the memory; not when Seungwan had been attempting to play footsie for the majority of the evening. A flush is already starting to creep up her neck, eyes blanketed by images of a smiling Seungwan and the phantom touches of her foot exploring the length of her leg.

 

None of it had to happen if Seulgi didn't invite them to sit together in the first place.

 

"Why did you do that, anyway?"

 

Seulgi shrugs, smile lopsided like her posture, almost lazy.

 

"Because it's not like I wasn't already suspicious of you two.” Her pause is drawn by the flick of her wrist, papers swishing in her hand as she flits through her clipboard. “I wanted to see for myself if my hunch was true. And it was."

 

“What hunch?”

 

Seulgi's grin looks menacingly all knowing. “That you did something about it.”

 

Irene masks her nervous eyes with a sigh, pressing fingers against her eyelids to pass off the image of annoyance instead. Seulgi's been frighteningly accurate with her guesses despite the brighter, almost ditzy-like picture she often paints herself as.

 

Hopefully her voice doesn't betray her and leave as shaky as the jitters plaguing her heart.

 

“You're connecting dots that don't even exist.”

 

Seulgi hums like she pays no mind, prattling on as if Irene wasn't planning on going home anytime soon at three-forty-five in the morning.

 

"And what was that about? She closed up your shirt at the register?" Seulgi’s tapping a pen against the steel clip, as if knocking doors with every point she makes. "Why was it open in the first place?"

 

Irene's ears go hotter, magma no doubt coloring them redder than the scarlet hues warming up beneath her cheeks.

 

_(“It’s not every day I close up a beautiful woman's shirt at the register. Looks like I won't need to, tonight.”)_

 

If only Seungwan wasn't such a vocal flirt; introductions didn't need a backstory. Irene recognized the questions in her friends’ gazes as soon as Seungwan had left that evening, as if they couldn’t wait to probe but kept shut because she didn’t look to be in the mood.

 

Which was true considering how much she hated knowing that Seungwan chose someone else over her.

 

_(“Do you want me, Joohyun?”)_

 

Seungwan always manages to haunt her even when she isn't dreaming.

 

“You look distracted again, unnie.” Seulgi's patting her back, ushering her towards the sliding doors. “Go home and get some rest. And please drive safely.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes, wrenching Seulgi's teasing hand away, scowling at the cheeky grin lining her lips.

 

“You talk as if I wasn't trying to do that in the first place.”

 

Seulgi waves her off, turning around, but not before pausing mid-spin, as if something else had come to mind.

 

“Oh, and if you two are going to play footsies, at least make sure you're touching the right leg.” Seulgi's giggles are loud even when she's farther away, “Wendy was so focused on you that she didn't realize she was feeling me up at first before finding you. I guess staying still at meetings to get away with sleeping really _does_ pay off.”

 

Irene doesn't know why she reddens when it wasn't even her mistake, but she does anyway, Seulgi's cackles echoing into her ears as if to scar like a constant reminder.

 

-

 

Making breakfast at four in the morning shouldn't take this long, but Irene still can’t find her soy sauce.

 

It doesn't help that the conversation she had with Seulgi keeps trickling back into her mind, her teasing smile etching itself across Irene's vision that it makes it difficult to stay focused.

 

“Someone on my team told me a funny story today.”

 

Irene looks up to find Sooyoung settling comfortably on her chair, dropping her badge and handcuffs beside a cup of water.

 

She combs her hair back, going back to rummaging through the cabinet. Where would a bottle of soy sauce go?

 

“And...?”

 

Irene catches Sooyoung take her cup from the corner of her eyes, her voice muffled by porcelain, leaving as echoes to slither into Irene's ears.

 

“That he had a boner while on the job disguised as a taxi driver.”

 

_Thud._

 

A hiss pierces between Irene's teeth, a surge of pain beginning to spread across the top of her head, rubbing to ease the discomfort coloring her scalp. Stupid cabinet and its low ceiling.

 

Sooyoung’s chuckles are grating.

 

“I didn't even mention why and you're already giving yourself away, unnie.” Amusement isn't hard to hear in her voice, “Care to tell me what happened or do you want me to relay it from a horny boy’s perspective? And trust me, his sounds like a wet dream that actually came true. The squad loved it.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes; she doesn't want to even try imagining something like that.

 

“Nothing much happened.”

 

“‘How they were practically eating each other's _faces—_ ’”

 

She waves a hand. “That's disgusting. And exaggerated.”

 

Joy huffs, slouched over the table.

 

“What about ‘then they were trying to get each other naked’?”

 

Irene ignores how her neck heats up, her ears no doubt reddening with warmth as if Sooyoung’s words drew lava with every syllable, scathing her eardrums.

 

She coughs out of dying hope that it'd keep the embers from rising to her cheeks.

 

Joy arches a brow, her grin hard to miss; not when her teeth practically shines a blinding white.

 

“Knowing that your belt was left opened and that lipstick stain was on your neck, color me impressed.” Sooyoung hums, “I didn't think you'd let her get that close, unnie.”

 

Irene snorts. “That only happened because she didn't want us to pay for broken fare.”

 

Sooyoung clicks her tongue, wiggling her brows.

 

“Then you could've just pointed it out like normal people instead of having a spontaneous make-out session.” Sooyoung pauses, “Not that I disapprove because those are amazing and it should happen more often, but imagine if he crashed all because he got distracted by two beautiful women who couldn't keep their hands - _and mouths,_ to themselves.”

 

She has a point. Irene remembers being aware of that, too.

 

But as soon as Seungwan settled in her lap, oozing touchable temptation, Irene found logic to be the farthest thing from her mind.

 

She had barely been able to think as soon as she felt Seungwan's lips on her neck, scrawling desire across her skin, her voice like a siren’s in stories she’s read as a child.

 

_(“Do something useful with that mouth of yours for once and kiss me.”)_

 

Seungwan erased every rational part of her like she held the command switch with just her voice. Irene’s never lived life without thinking. Kissing Seungwan had been the only thing on her mind and it was terrifying to know she couldn't resist.

 

What more with the men Seungwan sleeps with? Seungwan controls desire like a flick of the wrist, snapping fingers so self-control wouldn't exist in anyone else's vocabulary but her own.

 

“Do you like her?”

 

Irene blinks at the weight on her shoulder, looking up to find Sooyoung’s smile carrying something more genuine than the sly curve often written on her lips.

 

“Because I think she likes you.”

 

She sighs, curling her hair back. “You've said this before, Sooyoung.”

 

“I know. And this time I know better.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Sooyoung snorts, leaning back on her chair, arms crossed as if defensive for how ignorant she's been.

 

“The couch,” she pauses, “never mind. You said you know already.”

 

Irene watches her stand, massage her shoulder so the kinks crack and fills the silence.

 

Sooyoung passes her the soy sauce that happens to be hiding behind the toaster.

 

“All I’m saying is, just be careful. You never know who’s in disguise.” A yawn leaves her mouth, arms outstretched before she’s trudging away. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when dinner is ready.”

 

Irene frowns. “But what about your teammate?”

 

She isn't about to let Seungwan get caught because of something as stupid as an aroused boy.

 

“Oh, don't worry about him.” Sooyoung’s waving a dismissive hand, expression scrunched. “He loves the boner you two gave him so he'll probably be the least of your problems - compared to the rest of the squad, anyway.”

 

There's a certain dread in Sooyoung’s voice, as if underlined in red; reminds Irene of the keywords to look out for during tests. The gears in her mind begins to whir away at slotting the information down for later.

 

“How many?”

 

“Enough.” Another yawn, muffled by her hand. “But let me worry about that. You just focus on convincing your tiny-little escort to stop being, well, an escort. Even if she's persistent to keep going.”

 

Irene feels her face contort, scrunch up at the lack of information. It's better to know exactly how many she's dealing with, and exactly what she’s up against, but she'll count her blessings and be thankful that Sooyoung’s already shared more than enough. Irene knows that Sooyoung’s risking everything; it has evolved to more than just making sure Seungwan’s okay. She won't let Sooyoung lose it all.

 

“I’ll figure something out.”

 

“Oh, and before I forget; I found an outfit for you to wear this Friday.” Sooyoung’s grinning, a certain spark in her eyes, amusement dripping from her voice. “I’ll pick it up for you later after my shift. Just make sure you look good in it, got it?”

 

Confusion swirls in her mind, how Sooyoung throws her a wink before disappearing around the hall.

 

Irene goes back to cooking, shrugging off whatever speck of curiosity that seeps into her brain. Sooyoung probably got bored again and found fun at the thought of making her play dress up.

 

It’s not like she needed a new set of clothes; Sooyoung makes a scheduled meeting with the hospital staff a bigger deal than it actually is.

 

-

 

It’s Friday again.

 

That means one thing.

 

Excitement thrums in Wendy’s veins better than any adrenaline. She finds herself being extra conscious of her appearance, tucking stray strands from her already fixed waves and curls, tugging her dress and hopes it hugs her right - like an embrace she craves from a certain woman.

 

Wendy's always made sure she looked good; like a picture out of an invaluable painting. But with Joohyun, she wants to be more than that.

 

Wendy pretends she doesn't keep track of how many times (ten going on eleven) she fixes her outfit, comb fingers through her hair, retouch the red on her lips, makes sure her teeth shine white, that the chains of gold aren’t tangled around her neck - nothing but the best.

 

Ironically, she’s not even going to be seeing Joohyun first. There's still her six o’clock client before her scheduled appointment with her favorite date at eight. Time flies so much more slower when she isn’t with Joohyun.

 

On the bright side, it's kind of a good thing to not have Joohyun be her first appointment. Wendy doesn't think she could handle seeing Joohyun just yet. A work distraction is perfect. At least this way, her earlier date will think she's all dressed up for him; that's never a bad half-truth.

 

Wendy checks the gold on her wrist, watches the long hand tick away against a navy blue plate: quarter to six.

 

Fifteen minutes to kill time. More than enough to wander around the lobby, scope out why there are so many individuals dressed in formal attire as if a ball is scheduled for the night.

 

But as soon as Joohyun emerges from a crowd donning similar attire, Wendy suddenly couldn’t care less about anyone else.

 

She tucks a few strands behind her ear, amethyst dangling, fiddling with the ends of her auburn hair to ease the nerves already coiling up her throat. The damn butterflies are flying around in her stomach again.

 

Seeing Joohyun for the first time since their moment in the taxi has Wendy fidgeting like a girl with a valentine crush, heart hammering against her ribcage as if to break free, the annoying warmth spreading up her cheeks.

 

Colored in familiar charcoal black like Joohyun's dressed for her funeral: blazer, dress shirt, slacks, and single strap heels, Wendy wonders how long it'll take before her hands start ripping Joohyun's clothes apart. Her lungs are already all-too eager to carry Joohyun's name.

 

Wendy can’t _not_ think about the time she spent with Joy to pick out this exact outfit.

 

_(“Does it turn you on?”)_

 

If only she could mute Joy's annoying voice in her head.

 

At least there's no tie to amplify Joohyun's look like a bow on a gift or else it'd give her enough of incentive to just yank Joohyun in - have the damn hanging accessory be useful for once.

 

Her fidgeting only gets worse, fiddling with the hem of her dress, Joohyun’s name crawling up Wendy's throat as soon as she sees her come closer, teetering along her tongue and waiting to spill past her lips.

 

Calling her over feels like a sin for how much she wants to just crash their mouths together instead; skip all the small talk.

 

_("Play along,")_

 

It doesn't help that the memory of their first kiss is scarred behind her vision.

 

It's been imprinted that even when she doesn't mean to look back on it, Wendy still hears and sees it all: the squeaking of leather in rhythm to their hips, the moans that left their mouths; how antsy she'd been to unbuckle a tight belt, pop an annoying button open, and unzip Joohyun's stubborn pants.

 

Now it's all buckled up and sealed, again.

 

"Seungwan?"

 

She wants to fix that.

 

Wendy swallows the growing arousal clawing up her throat, curling strands back, looking for strength in constant amethyst.

 

Stupid outfit and stupid Joy.

 

"...Hi."

 

The nerves manage to make it through, voice on the brink of breaking, eager to stumble into syllables and stutters instead.

 

At least Joohyun greeted her first; if it had been her instead, Wendy wasn't sure if Joohyun's name was the only thing that would come out of her mouth. Not when their make-out session still plays on repeat behind her eyes, a moan too happy to leave so it could rest in Joohyun's ears.

 

Joohyun's walking closer, the clacks of her heels drumming against marble floors. There's a soft smile along Joohyun's lips; as gentle as the tilt of her head, the sway of her hair, and the crinkle of laughter molded in her eyes.

 

"Hi."

 

It gets harder not to say Joohyun's name.

 

Wendy notes how she's carrying a folder tucked comfortably under her arm. There are others dressed similarly, coming out of a room further down the hall.

 

Wendy combs fingers along the trinkets of jewelry dangling from her neck, buying herself some time to think and reel herself back in - quell the nervous jitters her heart has suddenly succumbed to. She doesn't want to be a fumbling mess in front of Joohyun; not when she's her best client who deserves nothing less than perfection.

 

She finds her skin of temptation and allure settling back into her limbs, voice curved to fill its role like it hadn't just been cracking beneath the surface.

 

God, it would've been easier if she hadn’t helped Joy out in the first place.

 

"You can't wear something like this and expect me not to kiss you."

 

Joohyun laughs, shrugging.

 

“Thanks. Sooyoung actually said it was an outfit picked out by a fashion lover.” She brushes fingers along a lapel, gaze glinting too close to what Wendy would call admiration. “Something about it being ‘wet with quality’?”

 

Wendy tries not to squeak in shame, already flustered at the fact that slivers of the truth made it through to Joohyun, hiding behind a cough in one hand.

 

God, she really hates Joy.

 

“Is that so?” She swallows the embarrassment clogging up her throat, “They did good.”

 

Wendy aims to move on from this topic, go back to making Joohyun flustered instead of herself - anything to stop her ears and face from taking on a redder hue more darker than the painting on her lips.

 

She steps closer, heels clacking to shorten the distance, reaching up to trace fingers down the lapels of Joohyun's blazer, distracts herself from Joohyun's kind mercy of allowing her to intrude personal space.

 

“If we keep bumping into each other like this, I'm going to have to start believing in fate.” Her tongue thankfully hasn't tied up on itself despite the nerves thrumming in her chest. “Hopefully this is a sign that we're meant to be.”

 

Joohyun shrugs again, betraying no sound but the quiet hum slipping between closed lips.

 

Wendy doesn't take it as rejection. After all, Joohyun's not pushing her away.

 

"You clean up well, not that there was ever any doubt." Curious hands flutter up to travel the collar of Joohyun's crisp dress shirt, ironed to perfection. "Special occasion?"

 

As fitting as it is to see Joohyun's blazer closed, Wendy hates how it only makes her want to tear it off more. She's close enough to do it. It'd be easy.

 

Just two buttons.

 

Joohyun nods, gesturing to the folder in her hand.

 

"Just a conference with the staff from another hospital."

 

Wendy hums, aware of how she trails the seams of Joohyun's blazer, sketching fingers until they meet the first offending gold-colored button.

 

Both hate and love are equally present for how laidback Joohyun is to act like she's allowed within her personal space. Wendy doesn't know if that means it's okay to explore and feel every inch of her or not.

 

Joohyun should draw clearer lines.

 

"I never got to ask," she starts, fiddling with the annoying circle keeping Joohyun's formal shirt hidden away. "How did you like my rocking?"

 

Rigid shoulders and a stiff jaw greets her question.

 

Surprise doesn't welcome Wendy anymore; not when Joohyun's become too easy to read in contexts like these.

 

"Because if I remember correctly," a smile plays along her lips, plucking off the first button of Joohyun's blazer. "You rocked on along with me."

 

To think Joohyun had sought out to make more friction with her, remembers vividly how their hips fell into rhythm together, the leather chair squeaking along—

 

"Er, well, I..." Joohyun's spluttering, "Um..."

 

—it's a memory Wendy often frequents in her daydreams.

 

Nothing sensible leaves Joohyun's mouth. Not that Wendy could blame her, either. Sometimes she finds herself still trying to wrap her head around the fact that it happened, too.

 

Even when she wakes up on certain days, her lips would stutter out breaths as if they were comprised of broken syllables, ghost touches of Joohyun's kisses and hands lingering along her skin. Arousal would often be coiled around her stomach, the space between her legs filled with a certain heat Wendy's all-too familiar with.

 

Those were tougher to deal with, if only because she'd spend even more time thinking about Joohyun than she already was, hand gripping her sheets, breaths leaving in short puffs. Calling over men to cater to her needs isn’t applicable all the time (especially not when she's in the same home she shares with Yerim), so she’d often settle for imagining that the fingers dipped between her legs belong to Joohyun and not her own.

 

"I hope your stuttering means you liked it," mercy takes Wendy's lips, but not without unlooping the second and last button of Joohyun's blazer. "Because I liked it, and I want us to do it again."

 

If only so she could add more to her cache of memories and file them away to spend even more time in bed with a better fantasy.

 

Flaring pink turns to red, swallowing up Joohyun's face that it's palpable enough to easily mistaken for a bright stoplight.

 

“Right, well, anyways...” Joohyun trails off, evasive, gaze darting to look at anywhere else. “What are you doing here?”

 

Wendy recalls the text message she received an hour earlier, “I’ll be waiting at the restaurant near the lobby,” phone stuffed in her purse and not too eager to check in and see if he’s already there.

 

“Meeting another Friday night client.” Wendy throws in a wink, pretends it doesn’t sour her mood that she isn’t only here for Joohyun. “But don't worry. I'll catch you later for our usual time, too.”

 

Joohyun’s lips thin to a line, like jumbles of words cluster just behind her mouth, her brows crinkled as if the gears in her head are spinning too much.

 

“He must be rich to choose this five-star hotel.”

 

Wendy hums, more bothered that there are wrinkles ruining the skin on Joohyun’s forehead, reaching up to press a finger down and have her expression relax. Joohyun looks better when she isn’t worried.

 

“He is. Why, are you jealous?”

 

Silence follows like a lingering ghost, watching Joohyun shut her eyes like her touch had calmed nerves trembling beneath soft skin.

 

Joohyun’s fingers circle her wrist, guiding their hands back down to rest by their stomachs.

 

“Is he good?”

 

Confusion settles in Wendy's chest. It doesn’t help that the heat in Joohyun’s hand is seeping into her skin, melting warmth that makes her head spin. There's a lot of connotations that go with what Joohyun's said.

 

Wendy frowns. “In bed?”

 

A lopsided smile paints across Joohyun's lips, a soft sigh spilling through.

 

“I meant good to you.” She pauses, her thumb rubbing slow circles against Wendy’s wrist. “He won't hurt you, right?”

 

Wendy tries not to crumble under Joohyun’s quiet comfort; her knees shaking at Joohyun’s tender touch.

 

Joohyun's gotten a lot more vocal about her concern for her well-being. Normally Wendy would find that suffocating; that she doesn't need to be looked after, that she could hold her own, but she wants nothing more than to be smothered in Joohyun's protection and affection - be taken care of even when it's not necessary.

 

Wendy swallows lards of syllables that would let Joohyun know how much she wants her, words like “Just tell me you want me,” and “Am I the only one who feels this way?” and bring it all back down to her stomach to bubble and hopefully disappear. Or at least, if they never leave, to stall until she’s ready to say them.

 

“The only person who could hurt me is you.”

 

Guess she couldn’t down all of it.

 

Joohyun winces, stammering. “But I would never—”

 

“I know.” Wendy nudges her elbow, a mask to be playful even when the words only come out heavier – and too close to the truth. “That’s why I’m not worried. So you shouldn’t be, either. Okay?”

 

She doesn’t know how Joohyun does it – how she can bring out the soft Wendy’s too used to pushing back, yanking it out from behind a sharp tongue and lying lips. It’s happening more often; a vulnerability Wendy’s afraid will keep showing.

 

Joohyun sighs, looking more defeated than back at the restroom last Thursday night. The image of Joohyun walking away, shoulders sagged like she had no more fight left still haunts Wendy; so does the gaze Joohyun marred into her brain as soon as she left the restaurant, how it had lingered even when her back was turned, how it raised the hairs on Wendy’s neck to stand.

 

She had barely been able to focus on her Thursday client because all she saw was Joohyun.

 

“Okay.” Defeat is palpable in Joohyun’s voice, her thumb still playing soft notes off Wendy’s wrist.

 

But Joohyun has no idea that she has already won.

 

Wendy pulls away, glancing at the small chain of gold and pretends Joohyun’s gaze isn’t burning her forehead. Two minutes left. She’s cutting it close.

 

“I’ll see you later,” Wendy attempts to erase this suffocating atmosphere still plaguing the air between them, throwing in a wink and a flick of auburn over her shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much.”

 

All she hears in return is Joohyun’s silence – louder than any goodbye.

 

-

 

Turns out pretending to be a rich boy’s girlfriend in front of his disrespectful parents is a lot harder than Wendy thought.

 

Between the condescending stares they send her way, their noses raised as if they always needed to look down on the people around them, to the way they call for the waiter with snapping fingers and obnoxious voices just to order a salad, Wendy thinks she’s had enough of it.

 

It must show even when they’re in the comfort of a hotel room, clothes strewn about on the floor and heavy breaths permeating the air.

 

Wendy knows she’s not performing her best; not when all she sees is the flickering image of Joohyun still sitting in the lobby flicking through her folder when she had passed by towards the elevators, Frat Boy tailing after her as if she had him on a leash.

 

Which is apt considering he’s wearing one – kinky for a dominatrix.

 

But all Wendy could think about despite a man who’s currently begging to be ordered around, whimpering for her attention, is the fact that Joohyun is downstairs seemingly waiting for her.

 

As soon as the clock on the nightstand shifts to write 8:00 PM, Wendy wastes no time moving off of him, slipping on her clothes and telling him she’s had fun, before locking herself in the bathroom and cleaning herself up. Personal hygiene should never be missed, especially when it comes to sex work.

 

Sweeping strands off her forehead, making sure the waves cascade properly over her back, Wendy tidies up the wrinkles in her dress, re-applying the red on her lips and concealing marks that still linger because of The Biter on Tuesday. She erases any evidence that she had just had sex as much as she can so Joohyun won’t see (even when there’s essentially no point because Joohyun already knows her line of work).

 

She has to look her best. She wants to look her best. Joohyun deserves the best.

 

“Please, I’ll pay for another hour.” He’s on his knees as soon as Wendy opens the bathroom door to leave, “Please. I’ll give you anything!”

 

Wendy attempts to placate him with a smile, pretend she cares when Joohyun is all she cares about.

 

“I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”

 

She’s already slipping her heels back on, coat over her arm, purse tucked in her hand.

 

“If you do, I’ll cut half of the money.”

 

Wendy bites back a snarky tongue, waving him off when he extracts a wad of cash from the envelope and throws it in the air to scatter around the room. There are only a few bills left in the envelope – not even worth an hour of her time.

 

“I hope you pick all of that up,” Wendy says, gripping the doorknob, the cogs creaking open. “Even if your parents could be better people, they worked hard for that money. You should appreciate that.”

 

He’s trailing after her, hands pressed together, begging.

 

“Teach me a lesson then.” He looks hopeless as soon as she looks over her shoulder, “Punish me. _Please._ ”

 

Wendy smiles as an apology; something she knows he doesn’t want from his dominatrix – that it’s too nice, too pleasant, _too soft._

 

“Maybe another time.”

 

She leaves without his money, not when he had tried to disrespect her worth. Besides, she could make up all the time she’s wasted on him with her eight o’clock date.

 

Wendy flits fingers through her hair, heels thumping on red carpet, the hotel corridor quiet and empty. Her ears perk up at the sound of voices that sound oddly recognizable, watching them come from the opposite end of the hall, a familiar Giant laughing beside an equally familiar face.

 

Joy and Seulgi?

 

She’s thankful that she’s too far from where they are to be noticed, catching Seulgi enter a keycard to a room, watches them both enter with laughter echoing along the walls before the door shuts.

 

Interesting.

 

Wendy stashes it away for later, taking the elevator down and attempts to calm her racing heart as the number of floors decrease, the bright digits counting too slow for her taste. Her fingers thread through her hair again, checking in the mirror that surrounds the interior for any strands out of place, readjusting the hooks on her earrings, and straightening the wrinkles still painting a few spots on her dress.

 

Fixing her posture as soon as the elevator dings, Wendy watches the doors slide open, stepping out, her heels clacking to each stride. The number of people lingering in the lobby has dwindled to five – not including Joohyun.

 

In fact, she can’t find Joohyun.

 

Wendy pretends there isn’t disappointment welling up her stomach, how her heart begins to slow, excitement no longer thrumming in her veins at the thought of Joohyun leaving (which shouldn’t surprise her considering it _has_ been two hours), her footfalls slowing to a stop.

 

It isn’t like she told Joohyun to wait for her. She shouldn’t even be feeling this way; as if she had just been stood up on a date she was actually excited for. Disappointment over expectations that were never discussed beforehand is _stupid._

 

But here she is.

 

“Is everything okay?” Wendy snaps up at attention when fingers brush over her face, pushing away strands that fall over her brow. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

 

Joohyun.

 

Wendy swallows to moisten her throat, blinking away tears that threaten to fall. She doesn’t know why they are even present in the first place, but Wendy’s thankful they sink back under her eyes before they could ruin her makeup – and her image.

 

Joohyun deserves perfection.

 

“I didn’t think you’d wait for me.” Wendy says with a tongue too used to practicing how to hide. “Where did you go?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m already here.” Joohyun pulls away, taking out her keys, small cluster of steel jingling between her fingers. “Saves gas. And I went to the restroom. Why?”

 

Practical, as usual.

 

Wendy shrugs, pretends it doesn’t jog her heart to know that Joohyun really stayed to wait for her. It should be instilling fear of the fact that Joohyun is seeing her right after she's already had sex with someone. She's done her best to clean up after herself, make sure she's presentable and worth Joohyun's expectations, erase any evidence that she's finished pleasing someone else.

 

But she should already be used to Joohyun's indifference to her work; Joohyun's eyes lack judgment, not like the women and men she passes along the way through every hotel corridor, knows how much her outfits tend to give her away.

 

Wendy’s heart jumpstarts when Joohyun reaches out again.

 

“So, are you ready to go?” Joohyun asks amidst tucking strands of hair behind Wendy's ear, “There. You look good.”

 

Oh god.

 

Wendy continues to hide. “What, did I not look good before?”

 

“What? No, it’s just - you always look good.” Joohyun's stumbling lips only makes Wendy sink deeper, affection rising up her chest, making her heart drum loud against her ears. “I just thought it'd be better if a few strands weren't in the way.”

 

Falling in love is relatively easy. No one ever realizes it happens until it just _does._ Wendy's not immune to it, finding herself falling and hearing her heart land over things like a sweet ice cream date at the carnival, to an accidental bump and fumbling of books to scatter at the library.

 

She's fallen enough times to know she ends up on her feet with heart in hand and eyes in love. It isn't as scary once she meets the ground, knows how deep it is, prepare the amount of shows to binge-watch and stock up on tubs of ice cream for the size of each inevitable heartbreak.

 

But she's still falling with Joohyun.

 

“In the way?”

 

“Of your eyes.” Joohyun's smile is too genuine to make fun of, “How would you be able to see if there's hair in the way?”

 

She swears that Joohyun must've come out of a children's book for how innocence leaves her lips too often to be real.

 

Wendy wonders if she'll ever get to land so she could measure how much to prepare for another potential heartbreak.

 

“You know, I was hoping you'd follow that up with a pickup line. Something like ‘so I could see your pretty face better’.”

 

Joohyun laughs. “Maybe next time. If I don't forget.”

 

Wendy loves how Joohyun laces their fingers together, tugging her gently towards the doors, warmth filling her chest, eager to rise up and spill between her lips so Joohyun could feel it too.

 

She wants to enjoy tonight.

 

“Mind heading somewhere else, first?”

 

-

 

Shopping together elicits an excitement Wendy's fond of feeling.

 

Countless opportunities for intimacy is exactly what she needs; at least, they're meaningful excuses just so she could be closer to Joohyun. Besides, it's always fun.

 

The fitting room is a perfect example, for one.

 

“Can you help me out with this?” Wendy tugs at a lacy dress, “There's too many strings to pull and it'd be nice to have an extra pair of hands.”

 

Fitting rooms don't have to be solely used for trying on clothes. The thought of getting into a small enclosed space with Joohyun is already making Wendy giddy. The car doesn’t count – only because Joohyun’s too busy driving to really pay any attention to her.

 

But Joohyun's frustratingly rational that Wendy doesn't know whether she should laugh or cry at how much she sucks the fun out of creativity.

 

“If you can't put it on yourself, then what's the point in buying it?”

 

“Obviously to look good, Hyunnie.”

 

Joohyun frowns. “But it barely covers anything. You'd be better off naked,” Wendy arches a brow at her pause and rolling eyes, “not that it should be an option considering it's illegal.”

 

Laughter lines curl along Wendy's lips, unable to hold in the chuckles that bubble in her throat. Joohyun's too cute.

 

Maybe a more forward approach will work.

 

“Not if we’re in the bedroom.” Wendy says against the shell of Joohyun’s ear, feels how Joohyun shudders at the touch of her lips. “Well, if you don't want me to be strutting around naked, then help me put this on.”

 

Joohyun crosses her arms.

 

“No.”

 

Stubborn.

 

“Why not?”

 

Joohyun's shifting her weight, leaning more on one leg, her brow arched. Her expression is unimpressed, and paired with her almost-slouched posture, Wendy pretends the image doesn't turn her on.

 

“I've heard enough stories from coworkers to know that being in a fitting room with another person is never a good thing.”

 

Wendy hums, a teasing smile drawing along her face, tilting her head.

 

“...Are you sure it's _never_ a good thing?”

 

Joohyun rolls her eyes. “Knowing you? I’m sure.”

 

Laughter bursts from Wendy’s mouth, calling for tears to pool beneath her eyes, bending over to hold her stomach. Wendy feels Joohyun's hands attempt to hold her steady, rubbing her back as if to massage out the giggles still rippling through her throat.

 

“I’ve learned my lesson about being in small spaces with you.” Joohyun's gaze is more knowing than the ignorance she's often associated with. “A one-man audience didn't stop you in a taxi. What more if we're actually alone in a dressing room?”

 

Nothing. Which is precisely the point.

 

Wendy sighs, the remaining bits of laughter perusing through her throat, unsure of whether she could appreciate Joohyun's logical mind during moments like this.

 

Oh well. At least she's cute.

 

Placing the dress back, she latches onto Joohyun's wrist, dragging her elsewhere and away from the store clerk’s probing eyes.

 

Maybe next time.

 

“You don't want to try on anything, Hyunnie?”

 

Joohyun hums. “Not my type. Too much skin.”

 

“You'd look amazing with showing more skin,”

 

“Not interested.”

 

Wendy nudges her elbow. “You're too conservative, Hyunnie.”

 

Joohyun shrugs. “And you're not conservative enough.”

 

“That's why we're perfect together.”

 

“Why do you think I chose you?” Joohyun quips, her smile curving into that deadly smirk Wendy’s both fond of and detests. “I knew that already, Seungwan.”

 

God, when Joohyun teases her, it's almost too much for her heart to bear.

 

Wendy loves that despite Joohyun's ignorance to most things, she is able to play along when she can.

 

The mall isn’t as crowded tonight despite it being a Friday evening. It’s nice, knowing that she could spend this quiet scenic time with Joohyun without worrying about getting interrupted by a mesh of strangers’ voices.

 

“Keep that up and I'll have no choice but to kiss you just so you'd shut up.”

 

Joohyun snorts. “We both know the only one shutting up because of a kiss is you.”

 

Wendy bumps their shoulders together, knows full well how true it is. She doesn't mind getting her mouth sealed up if it means being taped by Joohyun's lips.

 

“Kiss me, then.”

 

Joohyun raises her brow, all the while lacing their hands together, tugging her when a rowdy cluster of teenagers pass by. The spaces between their fingers nonexistent that Wendy swears the affection that bleeds from it is filling up her chest, too.

 

“But I like listening to you talk,” Joohyun's words almost makes Wendy trip on her own two feet, heels clacking to keep up with Joohyun’s. “Even if most of the time, it's related to sex.”

 

She's not sure if it's Joohyun's intention to make her cry, or just to shed a drop or two, but it works, feeling the slow rise of tears pool beneath her eyes again; as if the faucet had been turned without her permission. How odd. She's normally not this emotional.

 

What Joohyun said wasn't even all that romantic.

 

Wendy swallows it down so her voice doesn't give her away, burying her face against Joohyun's shoulder just in case one tear stubbornly decides to fall. It’s like back at the hotel, again.

 

“Why are you so quiet now?” Joohyun's attempting to peek at her eyes, feels her fingers brush at the hair curtaining her face. “I haven't even kissed you, yet.”

 

Wendy grabs onto that “Yet” like a lifejacket at sea, embedding it into her memory, slotting it away to look back to in case they never kiss again.

 

“So when will you?”

 

Joohyun responds with tightening their fingers together, locking their grip on each other, her warmth swelling into Wendy's skin faster than any hot pack. She doesn't say anything else, leading Wendy out of the cluster of children and their parents, weaving through lines bustling in the food court, to the night air filled with falling December snow.

 

Even if Joohyun says nothing, it's enough to quell the questions in her head.

 

Besides, when it comes to Joohyun, holding hands carries more words than Wendy could ever count.

 

-

 

For the next few weeks, her clients tell her one common thing:

 

"You've gotten so much more attractive in bed. I don't know why."

 

They tell her she's been sounding hotter, louder, wilder, gentler, softer. That her responses have made them feel convinced that they were making love and not sex.

 

Wendy gives them all one simple lie.

 

"You've just gotten better."

 

She notices the sudden spike in business: regulars ask for even more time, and new clients are flushing in like a river. It's come to the point where she literally can't make time for most of them. Even her fellow escorts from back at the agency have said that she's become well-known amongst her peers; that some of their clients couldn't help but say her name during sex.

 

Wendy knows why.

 

When the lights go dim and she shuts her eyes, feels them touch her and kiss her skin, Wendy pretends they're all Joohyun.

 

Joohyun is behind every moan, every kiss, every climax - Wendy's learned to convince herself that Joohyun is the one loving her every night.

 

Her hands haven't forgotten Joohyun's name.

 

“I hope you don't mind that it isn't the hotel room anymore.” Joohyun says between cleaning up pages scattered around the carpet floor of her apartment. “It was getting too costly to keep up.”

 

Wendy doesn't mind at all. Not when she gets to spend quiet evenings with Joohyun in her own home. Nothing could get quite better than this.

 

Especially not when she can sit and scribble Joohyun’s name with her finger across Joohyun’s back like it was a normal thing to do.

 

“What are you doing, anyway?” Joohyun’s chuckles thrum beneath Wendy’s skin, catches her client look over her shoulder, attempt to see what she’s writing. “Are you bored?”

 

Wendy laughs. She’s far from bored; more fascinated with sliding her finger against Joohyun’s warm back, draw invisible letters that make up Joohyun’s name.

 

“Nothing. And no, I’m not bored.” She says, signing it off with her signature, along with an additional note that Wendy knows Joohyun will never be able to read, scribbling: “I like you a lot.”

 

Despite Joohyun seemingly being comfortable in her presence, Wendy notes how they don’t take the cab anymore.

 

Joohyun's been awfully keen on making sure she has her car with her every Friday. Not that Wendy could really complain. It's a lot nicer than sitting in the backseat of a taxi. Unless she was sitting in it with Joohyun.

 

Wendy remembers trying not to let disappointment show on her face when she entered Joohyun's car for the umpteenth time, had sighed at the fact that she couldn't really do anything to Joohyun when she'd always be attentive in the driver's seat.

 

She's not crazy enough to distract Joohyun on the road; their lives matter more than brief bursts of pleasure. But still.

 

_"Why do you sound sad?"_

 

Joohyun's question had only brought back her misery. Wendy didn't think she could ever miss being in a taxi. If she had known that it’d be the last time she rode in one (at least, with Joohyun), she would’ve made making out with Joohyun all the more worthwhile.

 

She should've ignored the damn cab driver just so she could receive Joohyun's unrestrained kisses for a little longer.

 

 _"Because you're back to being boring again."_ Wendy remembers slumping against the window, watching buildings and cars flit by. _"I miss the you who couldn't keep her hands to herself."_

 

The car had jittered side-to-side, almost swerving into another lane before it managed to steady again. Wendy couldn't help but burst into laughter, hunched over, her seatbelt stretching to cope with her distance.

 

Joohyun had huffed, her hands no longer in confusion over how to hold the steering wheel; the scowl had been so evident on her lips.

 

“Right, but seriously, I hope you don’t mind that it’s just my apartment, now.”

 

Wendy blinks away the memory haze that had occurred just fifteen minutes ago, shifting to settle beside her, lending Joohyun a hand, stacking papers together.

 

“It's okay,” Wendy's more relieved that Joohyun is maintaining their relationship with consistent appointments. “I like it here.”

 

Maybe she sounds more lonelier than she thought because Joohyun's concern is almost thick enough that she swears she could choke in it.

 

“Do you want to stay over? I can sleep on the couch—”

 

“We’ve already slept together, Hyunnie.” Wendy smiles, feels their hands bump when Joohyun’s notes settle neatly atop each other. “There's no point in being polite like that.”

 

Joohyun sighs, but the quiet laughter that comes along is bright.

 

“Besides,” Wendy starts, curling her hair back. “You’ve got an empty bed. Hopefully you don’t mind filling it with me?”

 

Joohyun rolls her eyes, her only answer being the chuckles that go along with the swishing of papers getting rearranged.

 

They spend the majority of the evening just watching dramas on television. Nothing really special. But it’s special enough to keep in Wendy’s memories forever and replay again on nights like this.

 

She also likes the thought of getting Joohyun flustered with her bolder questions, scooting closer against Joohyun beneath the blanket they’re cuddling in, a bowl of popcorn tucked in Joohyun’s hands.

 

"Are you going to keep pretending we didn't make out in the back seat of a taxi?" Wendy asks, grabbing a handful, popping a tiny edible cloud into her mouth.

 

Even though it has been weeks since then, they haven’t spoken much about it; never once truly brought up again after their coincidental bump at the five-star hotel.

 

Joohyun scoffs, eyes still steady on the screen.

 

"No," she says once she’s done chewing her piece, "how could I pretend when you’re clearly trying to make sure I don't forget?"

 

Wendy laughs, nuzzling Joohyun’s shoulder.

 

"Touché."

 

The rest of the night passes by while they’re snuggled beneath the sheets in Joohyun’s bed, sleeping to her science fairytales; a type of routine Wendy wishes will stay forever.

 

-

 

Irene doesn't know when it happened: how her innocent want to help Seungwan has mixed in with something more ludicrous – how her acts of altruism has turned into something as selfish as desire.

 

It’s Wednesday and even though Irene would rather be at home instead of at the club, Sooyoung’s been persistent in making her go.

 

Which is why she’s now here, finding Seungwan in a dress made to invite stares, coiled up in shimmering gold and fitted black that circles above her knees. Submerged in seductive elegance with a walk that could make men keel over and women turn their heads for more than a second glance, Irene isn't surprised she's not immune to Seungwan's bewitching presence.

 

Downing another shot of alcohol wouldn't have given her as much distraction as the sight of Seungwan's legs.

 

Fingers fiddle with the cup in her hand, swirling liquid against glass, hoping it's enough to have her attention instead of Seungwan's steady approach. But from the corner of her eyes, she still catches the sways in Seungwan's hips, tantalizing and hypnotic; Irene knows she's already trapped under her spell.

 

Seungwan has diamonds for eyes, a swirl of colors in a prism that reflects more thoughts than she could count, taking the words out of her lips.

 

Seungwan takes her breath hostage, her dress clinging onto her curves like it was hanging on for dear life, much like how Irene is by how she's gripping the edges of her glass cup, the other a fist on her lap, clenching her teeth tight so her hands won't reach out to flutter fingers across Seungwan's hips.

 

Irene's used to burying her own feelings, swallowing down something as selfish as lust so no one else has to bury it for her.

 

But Seungwan makes it difficult.

 

Irene watches Seungwan take her time settling on the stool chair next to her, fingers grazing Irene's elbow, leading down her arm before flitting away from her wrist as if she hadn't just traced the length of her limb.

 

The act of sitting down isn't supposed to have that much sin.

 

Irene raises her glass to swallow more liquid courage.

 

"Careful," Seungwan's leaning closer, resting her cheek against her palm, elbow on her knee. "Wouldn't want you getting drunk enough that you can't help but be all over me."

 

Her cup settles back on the bar table, a light clink against the sound of a guitar's riff. The music isn't really to her taste, not like the sound of Seungwan's coy giggles.

 

If only she could hold in her attraction like she holds in liquor, then maybe she wouldn't be considering kissing Seungwan right now and sealing that voice to keep for herself.

 

Pretending she doesn't see Seungwan's slow dance of crossing her legs is a nightmare all on its own, dress sliding up to reveal the alabaster skin along her thighs.

 

It's so short.

 

"Aren't you cold?"

 

Seungwan's laughter is reflected in her eyes. "Typical."

 

Irene shrugs.

 

Her giggles turn softer, the smile more warmer than Irene's accustomed to.

 

"Are you going to lend me your jacket then?"

 

"No," Irene says, rubbing her thumb against the moisture of her glass. "I'll get cold."

 

Mock hurt plagues Seungwan's voice, a hand to her chest as if to relieve a physical blow.

 

"But you're always lending me things."

 

"I do," Irene pauses, "but you don't really wear any of them when you're too eager to take them off later, anyway."

 

"But I do." Seungwan quips, a secretive smile piquing Irene's curiosity more than it already does. "You just don't get to see it because I sleep in them when I get home."

 

It sounds like a joke, but paired with a small grin that lights up Seungwan's face, almost shy, light pink dusting her cheeks, Irene wonders if it’s true. The color looks absolutely amazing on her.

 

Or maybe the alcohol has finally settled in, dipping Irene's vision in rose glasses that Seungwan appears more ethereal than she already was.

 

"You've been keeping me warm every night." Seungwan says, quieter than usual that Irene's almost sure she wasn't meant to hear it at all.

 

But to think Seungwan sleeps in the button-up she'd given her—

 

What does she do with that kind of information?

 

Maybe she should drink a little more, buzz her head into coming up with a solution instead of the blank slate she often finds herself in whenever she's with Seungwan.

 

"Hey," Seungwan's voice rings in her ears, her hand resting on top of Irene's cup, keeping her from raising her glass. "You're not driving, are you? Please tell me you at least have a designated driver."

 

Irene blinks, brow raised. "Sooyoung's here. Somewhere."

 

"How reassuring."

 

Seungwan's hand is still on her cup.

 

"Can I drink now?"

 

"You never struck me as the type to drink."

 

"And I didn't think you'd be the type to stop me from drinking."

 

Irene listens to soft chuckles, clear despite the booming bass of the club's stereo. Despite the quality sound system, Seungwan's voice is all she could really hear.

 

Seungwan's hand lifts from her glass, but not without peeling Irene's fingers off of it too, stealing her cup and raising it to swallow the liquid instead.

 

Irene gapes at the audacity, watches how Seungwan licks her lips, slow as if to remind her of a stolen drink. They shimmer from the remnants of alcohol, appearing more lush - a bright pink beacon calling for a kiss.

 

When Seungwan stands, leaning over to share the gloss finish against her lips, Irene stills at the fleeting touch of a mouth she's already tasted once before. Irene wouldn't mind getting drunk this way.

 

Liquor has nothing on Seungwan's lips.

 

"That's enough drinking for tonight," Seungwan's whisper flutters against her mouth, "I want you sober when you kiss me."

 

But Irene takes pride in her self-control; even if it tends to dwindle whenever Seungwan is present.

 

"...What makes you think I'll kiss you in the first place?"

 

Seungwan's shifting back, tapping a finger against Irene's nose, the grin on her face brighter than the reflection of Irene's transparent glass.

 

"Because you did, once. Besides,” she's tucking auburn behind her ear, “You won't be able to resist."

 

Irene frowns, confusion only drawing further along her face, brows crinkled to question, but Seungwan keeps it a secret just like how she keeps Irene's attention - wrapped up in knots and inescapable.

 

Seungwan's tugging her wrist.

 

"Now come on, let’s go dance. I want to be your only focus and not this noisy crowd.”

 

If only she knew.

 

“It’s okay, I’d rather just sit. Tough day at work.” Irene says, passing Seungwan a smile in hopes that it’ll convince her not to probe.

 

It wouldn’t be good to be anywhere near Seungwan when she’s on the dance floor; how she goes in tune to the rhythm of a song is enough to make Irene want to run away for how sinful it feels to watch Seungwan’s body move the way it does.

 

Seungwan shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

 

But not even five minutes in, when Seungwan settles at a spot near the center, covered under flickering hazes of flashing red, blue, yellow, and green lights, Irene could already see hunger reflected in gazes of several men.

 

It’s like an itch she can’t scratch, only growing worse when she sees them inch closer to Seungwan one by one, slowly making their way with eyes filled with a lust Irene’s too familiar with.

 

Hands curling into fists, teeth gritting beneath her lips, Irene steps off the bar stool, stomping directly towards Seungwan, her boots thudding with each stride.

 

When Seungwan notices her, the smile lighting up her face is achingly bright beneath dim lights.

 

“About time you joined the party, Hyunnie.”

 

Irene huffs, settling close enough that she could hold Seungwan if she wanted to and keep her away from any touchy individual. She catches one leering, gripping Seungwan closer.

 

“What's the matter? You should be having fun.” Seungwan's hand holds her arm, squeezing as if to press in comfort. “Dance with me.”

 

But that’s not her priority.

 

“I hate how they're looking at you.” Irene can't focus on anything else but the stares she keeps catching being thrown their way.

 

Seungwan is as carefree as ever.

 

“Let them stare. They won't have me, anyway.”

 

“That's not the problem. It's just…” Irene frowns, searching for words that seem lost on her tongue. “Why can't they be more polite about it?”

 

Her laughter is more cheerful than Irene expects, feeling the way Seungwan rubs her arm, the notion easing a bit of the frustration coiling in her stomach.

 

“Hormones don't exactly make people rational, Joohyun.”

 

Irene clicks her tongue. “There's a thing called discipline, Seungwan.”

 

“They're not all that uptight like you.” Seungwan says, a smaller smile curving along her skin. “Sometimes I wish you weren't, either. But we can't have everything, can we?”

 

She doesn’t know how to answer that.

 

Irene settles for keeping her focus on the task at hand, biting back a scowl thrumming behind her lips when she sees how there seems to be even more people looking at Seungwan.

 

She jolts at a touch to her cheek, how it cradles her skin, turning back to find Seungwan’s eyes filled with something Irene can’t read.

 

“If you don't want people to stare at me like I'm theirs, then do something about it.”

 

There's a challenge lining the timbre of Seungwan's voice, more confrontational and even commanding than sound advice. It doesn't help that Seungwan's words breeze across the slope that meets her ear and neck, quaking Irene's heart into a run.

 

Thrums of bass and soft guitars tremor in her ears, but all Irene hears are the breaths Seungwan makes, their slow dance an anomaly to the rifts of music and boisterous jumping crowds.

 

They're all a mere hum when Seungwan's this close: how hands have nestled against her back, feels her blazer crumple between Seungwan's fingers, lips resting against Irene's neck, her breathing warming up Irene's skin.

 

Her arms twitch to hold Seungwan, encouraged when Seungwan writes with lips against her again.

 

“Do something, Joohyun.”

 

Maybe it's the alcohol in her system, the cluster of loud noises, or the stares she catches of people looking at Seungwan, or even the scent of jasmine that swallows her lungs that makes her move. It doesn't really matter which, when Seungwan is already close enough to hold.

 

Irene wants to replace every mark she sees left on Seungwan’s skin; concealer could only hide so much.

 

She dips her head to meet Seungwan's neck, traces between soft alabaster, nips spaces that people haven’t taken, and lingers longer on the spots they have. Irene attempts to cover every splotch of pink and purple, green and yellow, that peeks beneath makeup with open-mouthed kisses, hoping to erase any evidence that anyone who isn’t her has already touched Seungwan.

 

Fingers rise up to hold Seungwan closer, tangled between strands of auburn hair, her other hand sketching out the routes of Seungwan's back, to her hips, and the slopes of her thigh; the tips of her nails flicking across the pattern of skin and lines - fishnets have always been such a tease.

 

Seungwan's breathing has quickened, shorter huffs of breath crawling into her ears. It only makes Irene's heart sprint faster, attempting to break past her ribcage, pulling Seungwan closer so their chests press together - hopes that it's enough to keep her heart exactly where it should be.

Irene isn't thinking. She can't when lips that aren't hers have etched onto Seungwan's skin like poison in colors; hates that Seungwan has gone back to someone who thinks biting is the only way to appreciate perfection. Irene wants to heal them all away.

 

Fingers thread into Irene's hair, peeling off the circle string so ebony can fall, smiling when she hears Seungwan gasp out “Pretty,” between the kisses Irene promises against soft collarbone.

 

All she wants to feel is Seungwan.

 

Seungwan,

 

Seungwan,

 

_Seungwan._

 

But then tender hands touch her cheeks, lifting her head up to meet eyes that only continues to swallow her in. It makes Irene pause just to look, stare like all the others who still can't keep their gazes off Seungwan.

 

Smoky eyes and bright red lipstick never looked as good as when they're worn on her.

 

Seungwan's breathy chuckles are better than the noises they call music still pounding across the room.

 

“When I said do something, I didn't mean, well, _that._ ” Her laughter grows softer, the silver and gold rings on her fingers shimmering beneath blinking red, blue, yellow, and green, lights when she curls strands behind her ear. “I’m not complaining, though. I liked it.”

 

Every sense gets overridden, every instinctive kiss and touch washes away under a voice she's gotten too used to listening to, over her own sound judgment.

 

Seungwan's beautiful.

 

There's a dash of shy mixed in with Seungwan's usual flirtatious smile. Even the motions of her hands have a meekness to them, how the tips of her fingers drag slowly down the space behind Irene's ears to the lines of her neck, settling on her shoulders like she's afraid of touching her any closer.

 

She didn't think Seungwan could cast a spell as enchanting as having her want to stay exactly where she is and lean in so she could seal those pink lips for herself.

 

“Joohyun…?” Seungwan’s hands cup her cheeks, “You’re not drunk, are you?”

 

She barely hears Seungwan’s words, too entranced with the way each syllable forms on her lips to really process what’s being said.

 

She’d much rather feel them instead.

 

Irene tastes alcohol she had ordered earlier, along with a mix of raspberries and cherries, inhaling that sweet scent of jasmine. It’s nothing like their kiss back inside a taxi, more slow and savoring than hasty and desperate. A moment to merely explore, keep track of the slopes of Seungwan’s soft lips, memorize each curve that melts against her, as well as the sigh that spills from Seungwan’s mouth once her tongue beckons to delve deeper.

 

“...You were right,” Irene says as soon as she pulls away, just enough to breathe syllables against Seungwan’s lips.

 

Seungwan’s eyes flutter open, blinking as if dizzy from a kiss too soft that it had stolen all the air in her lungs and all the thoughts piled up in her head without warning.

 

Or at least, that’s how Irene feels.

 

“About what…?”

 

She barely makes out syllables with Seungwan's mouth still lingering too close to _not_ taste. Irene wants seconds. Thirds. Fourths. Fifths, if she could sneak an extra in.

 

It takes every practiced muscle to not surge forward and take Seungwan’s mouth to just kiss forever.

 

“I couldn't resist.”

 

Maybe she _is_ drunk. Why else would she dare to act on instinct instead of the logic that has gotten her far in life?

 

“I think we’ve had enough fun for tonight,” Seungwan says, circling fingers around Irene’s wrist. “Come on. It’s getting too crowded in here.”

 

Irene blinks the haze away, allows herself to be dragged through masses of bodies dancing to the loud beats of noises they call music. Weaving around clusters of teenagers who've managed to sneak past security and a bachelorette party having one too many drinks.

 

She nearly crashes into Seungwan when she stops, halting just before slamming against her back, gripping Seungwan's hip out of reflex to stabilize herself.

 

“Hey, what's—”

 

“I recognize you,” it's a man, face unfamiliar, standing too close to Seungwan. “Aren’t you here for a good time? Where are you going?”

 

Irene already knows where this is headed, voice eager to intervene until Seungwan places a hand over her fingers still curled against Seungwan's hip. Seungwan's pressing warmth as if to comfort.

 

“I’m busy, boys.” That signature dip in voice takes Seungwan's lips, hears sultry clicked on play. “Maybe next time.”

 

Irene catches sight of a second man, more burly and tall and quieter; donning casual attire compared to his talkative companion. He doesn't sway with his steps like his friend, hinting alcohol to be disrupting his balance.

 

She bristles when he staggers forward into Seungwan, how his arm wraps around her shoulders, face almost buried in her neck if it weren't for Seungwan's hand maintaining distance against his chest.

 

“But I hear that you're fun and I want us to have fun…” His words leave like a drawling chord gone off-key, his drink swishing to his sways in his other hand.

 

Irene doesn’t hesitate when he attempts to embrace Seungwan, flaring up at catching his tongue dart out as if to taste the skin along Seungwan's collarbone, shoving him off with a strength all too familiar of the time she had instinctively punched a customer.

 

Blood pounds against her eardrums as if to shatter, her chest thumping like her ribcage is about to split open at how hard her heart continues to run.

 

All she sees is Seungwan.

 

Seungwan,

 

Seungwan,

 

_Seungwan._

 

His drink topples over her jacket and dress shirt, but Irene doesn't care much when his sleazy mouth had nearly touched Seungwan's skin.

 

He stumbles backwards into his companion, thudding to the floor, flailing arms and kicking feet hurrying to get back up. Irene doesn't waste time sticking around, dragging Seungwan by the wrist and slithering through the rest of the crowd that has somehow gotten larger.

 

When the winter air enters her lungs, cooling off the heat lingering in her limbs, the pounding in her ears dissipate, recognizing the light flutters of snow twinkling under topaz streetlights. Seungwan’s no longer the only thing on her mind.

 

Irene jolts at a touch to her arm.

 

“You’re wet,” Seungwan's smile carries that playful tilt, plucking out a bundle of tissues from her purse. “You didn't strike me as the violent type.”

 

Gentle fingers pat at the stains of cocktail littered all over her clothes, the smell of alcohol latching onto her like she had swam in it (in a way, she did).

 

“Why didn't you let me handle it?”

 

Wendy doesn't stop drying the spots that are still soaked, her intonation insinuating unwanted protection. Irene wishes it was that simple; that she had pushed him off because Seungwan needed it. That she had done it out of the goodness in her heart - noble and proper.

 

But all Irene wanted was to make sure that Seungwan didn't get touched by anyone else.

 

“I just - I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“Clearly.” Seungwan chuckles, her hands pausing against the ends of Irene's jacket. “Can't think whenever I'm around, right?”

 

Irene huffs, watches smoke leave her lips, floating off to fade away.

 

Seungwan is touching her cheek, her palm warm against Irene's growing cold skin. The crinkles of laughter in Seungwan's eyes are as bright as the flickers of falling snow; they glimmer like amusement found home in them.

 

It's pretty.

 

“You weren't kidding.” Seungwan giggles, tapping a finger against her temple. “You're zoning out on me, Joohyun.”

 

Irene blinks back into focus. “Sorry, I'm just—”

 

“Busy thinking about me,” a wink is paired with her sly smile like they were a duet. “I know.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes, finding her heart resting back to a familiar pace.

 

“Why don't you and Joy come over to my place?” Seungwan asks, kicking at snow that has clumped up near the streetlight. “Have dinner with me. As thanks for last time.”

 

She has no energy to argue, especially not when her heart had threatened to leave her ribcage and make her ears go deaf just moments ago because of a kiss she couldn’t control.

 

Irene yanks her phone out, a “Sure,” spilling between her lips and dialing quickly just so she wouldn’t have to stare at Seungwan’s smile any longer than necessary.

 

-

 

Wendy has always been one for seizing opportunities.

 

"Here,"

 

Joohyun furrows her brows. "...Isn't this the shirt I gave you?"

 

"Yes," Wendy ushers Joohyun to take it, "I want you to wear it."

 

"But—"

 

"You don't have another shirt on you, do you? Unless you’d rather walk around in your bra, or sleep in a stained and smelly shirt, just wear it." Wendy nudges it into Joohyun’s hands, "You can give it back to me later when the laundry is done."

 

It's selfish of her, Wendy knows.

 

She watches Joohyun send her a smile before her client loops the shirt over her shoulders, arms seamlessly slipping through the sleeves, hiding away a navy blue bra and alabaster skin. The action is nothing special, but when Joohyun's the one putting on clothes, Wendy can't help but find it that much more pleasant to the eyes.

 

If Joohyun knew she sleeps to the scent that has faded on that shirt every night, then she might figure out that Wendy is lending it just so the vanilla and lavender can be written between the seams, again.

 

No fabric softener or perfume can duplicate the scent marred along Joohyun's skin.

 

Unless she gets to sleep with Joohyun every night, Wendy will just have to settle for bringing back that scent on her most treasured shirt.

 

"Thanks."

 

Wendy smiles. "You look good in it. Wear it longer if you need to."

 

Joohyun laughs, unbridled. Wendy knows she has no idea - how her words come off as kindness instead and not the selfish truth.

 

But that's okay. Joohyun doesn't need to know that she can no longer sleep without her scent.

 

“I guess Joy’s too busy to have late-night dinner with us?” Wendy asks as she slips into the kitchen, tying her hair up into a pony-tail and rummaging through the fridge.

 

It isn’t the home she shares with Yeri; not when the highschool student is prone to questioning everything. She would no doubt bombard the both of them with questions as if she were an interrogator, and Wendy isn’t up for masking more facts with lies and have Joohyun pretend along with her.

 

“Yeah. Early shift tomorrow.” Joohyun hovers close, “Need help?”

 

Wendy tries not to stare at how good Joohyun looks in the button-up.

 

“No, it’s okay. I got it.”

 

Joohyun’s obedient enough, hearing her shuffle away, settling into a chair in the kitchen. Wendy feels her gaze probe the back of her head.

 

She clears her throat. “I saw Joy and Seulgi enter a hotel room a few weeks ago.”

 

Joohyun is coughing, as if something has lodged itself in her throat, but nothing except air leaves her mouth.

 

“I’m guessing you have no idea why, either.” Wendy says, laughing at Joohyun’s expression, too surprised to be knowledgeable of their relationship.

 

Pulling up a chopping board to sprawl over the counter, Wendy gets to cutting vegetables, flicking the stove on and dumping them into the frying pan once they’re ready.

 

They don’t talk about the kiss that had happened on the dance floor. No mention of its intimacy and what it could mean, talking about everything else but their own foggy relationship and pretending that nothing’s changed.

 

Wendy’s afraid to bring it up. Not because she doesn’t know how, but because she might ruin the fragile balance that keeps them both comfortable enough to sleep in the same bed and hold each other at night like they weren’t already crossing a certain line.

 

“How long are you planning to be an escort?” Joohyun’s question comes out of the blue, almost startles Wendy’s fingers to drop the spatula.

 

Wendy hums. “For as long as I need to.”

 

“Are you interested in doing anything else?”

 

Music has always been her favorite thing. But it isn’t as financially stable. She can’t risk that when she has Yeri to take care of.

 

“Not really.”

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Wendy’s heard Joohyun ask her this before. The second time they met. How much things have changed since then. Funny how they circle back to this again.

 

“It’s easy.”

 

“But do you like it?”

 

There’s something about Joohyun’s insistence that itches her the wrong way. Maybe it’s because she’s being persistent and Wendy would much rather leave things as it is. Nothing’s broken, so nothing needs to be fixed.

 

“It doesn’t matter whether I like it or hate it.” Wendy says, thankful her back is turned towards the stove and frying vegetables so Joohyun can’t see her grit teeth. “It’s enough.”

 

Joohyun hums, the quiet settling in.

 

Just like with the kiss, they avoid anything that has to do with topics pertaining to work. No one apologizes for the slightly thicker air that coats the rooms. Not when Wendy knows it’s no one’s business on what she chooses to do, and with Joohyun being often sure with her words, it wasn’t like Wendy expected an apology from her side, either.

 

As much as Wendy hates how the tension gradually grows enough to feel suffocating, it’s better than acknowledging secrets she isn’t willing to share. At least they still end up sharing the bed together.

 

Tucked beneath the sheets, Wendy can’t find sleep despite the fact that Joohyun’s arms are warm around her.

 

Wendy attempts to look for more comfort, nuzzling deeper into the button-up Joohyun wears, loving how her scent is beginning to return between the seams of the fabric. Her fingers curl tighter against Joohyun’s back, trying to be closer than she already was.

 

“…What are we, Joohyun?”

 

Maybe she’s drowsy for sleep, or the scent of vanilla and lavender, or the warmth seeping from Joohyun’s embrace, but either way, Wendy lets her heart speak – mumbling words against Joohyun’s collarbone.

 

Joohyun can’t hear her when she’s already asleep, anyway.

 

"I don't want us to just be Friday night dates and weekend sleepovers."

 

It’s too honest. There’s already embarrassment filling up her lungs from the air that’s suddenly quieter. At least she could hide her face away, hold Joohyun tighter, burrow away how nervous lines wrinkle the skin between her brows, curve her lips into a frown.

She wonders what Joohyun would say.

 

Wendy sighs, the silence and Joohyun’s steady breathing being the only things that greet her. She settles for drowning in Joohyun’s scent. It’s better than having it disappear just because she’s gotten more self-conscious about how their relationship will go from here.

 

She could deal with blurred lines for a little longer.

 

-

 

It’s Friday again and Irene waits for Seungwan to come by.

 

She said that she was nearby, apparently out window-shopping at an outlet close to her neighborhood. Irene had offered to give her a ride, but Seungwan had been adamant to get there on her own.

 

Irene ties her leather watch around her wrist, hears Sooyoung come in, the bed dipping under her weight when she settles next to her on the bed.

 

“Getting ready for a date with Wendy?”

 

Sooyoung’s smug smile is as annoyingly bright as always.

 

“Now that you mention it,” Irene starts, raising a brow to question. “She told me she spotted you with Seulgi going into a hotel room one night. What was that about?”

 

She expects flushed cheeks and stuttering lips and broken syllables; not the lazy shrug and nonchalant gaze Sooyoung wears, sweeping across green nails, blowing air at the tips before rubbing them against her shirt like the question doesn’t bother her at all.

 

“The squad usually reserves a hotel room for mission debriefs, especially since we’re all under disguise.”

 

The gears in Irene’s head slowly turns, clicking into place the pieces that she hadn’t considered to be missing in the first place.

 

So that means Seulgi is—

 

“How do you think I got Wendy’s hospital records without a warrant?”

 

Irene sits stunned. Ignores how Sooyoung’s laughter is obnoxiously loud, too busy connecting dots together with messy lines that by the time the information finally sinks into her head, Irene hears a resounding clink of metal snapping together.

 

She looks down, spotting silver coiled around her right wrist.

 

“…Did you just cuff me to my bed?”

 

With how wide Sooyoung’s grin is, Irene wouldn't be surprised if it's wrapped all the way around.

 

“Yes.”

 

Irene tugs at the chain, grimacing at the clinks of metal that keeps her to a still.

 

“Why?”

 

Sooyoung’s readjusting her jacket, throwing her bag over her shoulder, dangling her respective keys to the apartment in her other hand.

 

“Because Wendy's coming over.” She pauses, “And because it’s punishment for being too slow to notice. How are you going to keep Wendy from getting caught if you can’t react fast enough?”

 

Irene frowns, tugging at the cuffs again. Still stuck.

 

“What does Wendy coming over have to do with anything?”

 

“A lot, actually.” Sooyoung says by the door, her Cheshire smile blinding against her lamp’s light. “Here’s to hoping that this will get you two to finally have that much needed sex, as well as convince her to finally stop being an escort. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. Be a sweetheart and stay put until Wendy comes by.”

 

What a chatterbox.

 

“Where's the key, Sooyoung.”

 

Irene scowls at the giggles she's responded with, watches a finger seal Sooyoung’s lips as if it were a secret.

 

“You’ll know.”

 

She hisses as soon as she yanks the steel, frustration at being defenseless lining her limbs, a ring of pink beginning to glow around her wrist. The soreness is climbing in, but it's not as bad as the dread that sinks once she hears _her._

 

_“Where's Joohyun?”_

 

_“In her room.”_

 

_“Isn't she going to greet me?”_

 

Irene hears soft thuds dropping to the floor as if they were flung off, the muffled clacks hinting to be Seungwan's heels.

 

_“She's...busy.”_

 

God, she'd like to wring Sooyoung’s neck, empty every blood that pumps through her vessels, and leave her out to dry on the street.

 

Irene tenses up when she hears the door click shut and Seungwan’s footsteps are soft against the floor, each thump growing louder the closer she gets, going in tune with the noisy beats pounding in her chest.

 

Nerves coil up in her throat.

 

“Christmas certainly came early.” Seungwan's smile is almost as blinding as Sooyoung’s, pausing by the door frame, wearing a tube dress, fishnets hugging her legs. “When Joy said you were busy, I didn't think she meant being stuck to your own bed.”

 

Irene rolls her eyes at the amusement dripping off Seungwan's tongue. She knows the answer already (there really isn't any point to bother) but it doesn't hurt to ask, swallowing to moisten her throat.

 

“Are you going to help me out of here or not?”

 

A chuckle. “Definitely not.”

 

As expected.

 

Irene attempts another yank, the wood creaking and the chains clinking like screeches drilling into her ears. Her wrist bears a redder hue, now; pain tattooed on like a bracelet.

 

As much as Irene would like to wrench out from this tiny steel prison, it would mean breaking the fine burnished wood of her precious headboard. It'd be too costly to replace.

 

But then again, with how quiet Seungwan's become at her current predicament, the gears in her head no doubt spinning for ideas, maybe it'd be worth the replacement.

 

Irene tries again.

 

“At least you have the keys on you, right?”

 

Seungwan’s giggles are sing-song, more playful than Irene could bear to imagine.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Irene lets her mind whir away, options drawing a map of routes best to take.

 

Sooyoung wouldn't be cruel enough to take the keys with her. She'd undoubtedly let Seungwan know. The question though, is where.

 

Thankfully her bed isn't on wheels; it wouldn't be too difficult to yank the wood from the headboard. It'll take time, but it isn't like it'll be hard to get some rest when pillows and a blanket are easily accessible.

 

Considering her free hand, even if it isn’t her dominant limb, it's enough to keep a steady grip, pull herself off, or chip away at the wood with the scissors she keeps in her bedside table.

 

If only the wood didn't thicken into a circle near the top then she would've easily slid the cuffs up and be free.

 

Seungwan's stepping forward, her motions more fluid than Irene remembers them to be. The sway of her hips, the lift and dips of her legs - as if the switch for allure has been flicked on. Irene finds herself noting details: the arch along Seungwan’s brow, the smirk playing across her mouth - she recognizes what they mean.

 

Warning signs flare loud and clear in Irene's head.

 

“I really like this,” Seungwan's settling on the bed, the low thrum in her voice just as tantalizing as the sudden spark in her eyes. “The fact that you're stuck and utterly defenseless.”

 

Irene pretends she doesn't notice how Seungwan's slowly crawling towards her like a lioness to her prey, the sheets crinkling beneath her fingers, the mattress squeaking lightly with each dip Seungwan's knees and hands make.

 

Danger is blaring in bright letters behind Irene's eyes; she needs to get out - _fast,_ or else it'll be another taxi fiasco.

 

“What if I need to use the bathroom?”

 

The timbre in her laughter only makes the hairs on Irene's neck, stand.

 

“ _That's_ what you're worried about?” Seungwan trails off, her hand a gentle weight on Irene’s shoulder. “...And not the fact that I could do anything I want?”

 

Irene feels herself lower until her back meets the mattress under Seungwan's mute direction, swallowing under a gaze that speaks more volume than the words that flutter between the air they breathe.

 

Her hand hangs limply, cuffs keeping her secure under Seungwan's scrutiny - and her every possible command.

 

“But you always do what you want.”

 

Seungwan's leaning down, scraping words with her lips against Irene's ear.

 

“Do you really think so?”

 

Irene frowns, confusion arching her brows at the look Seungwan gives her; more solemn than the sly smile typically associated with the temptress.

 

“Don't you?”

 

Whatever it is, it doesn’t last long. Seungwan's shrugging, auburn strands falling over her shoulder, tickling Irene's neck. The bed squeaks under Seungwan's movement, feeling her shift until there's a weight on her lap, Seungwan's legs curled comfortably on either side of her as if to trap her.

 

It's completely unnecessary considering she's already cuffed to her own bed.

 

Irene’s heart begins to jog, pace quickening at Seungwan's hands mapping the circles of her button-up. The pressure of her slim fingers are soft but present, probing as if to peel off every barrier that keeps her modest.

 

“If that's the case,” Seungwan’s leaning back down, hovering over the edge of Irene's jaw that dips to her neck. “Then I should already be kissing you.”

 

Irene swears that she already is with how her breaths scathe her skin, coloring fire to burn into her flesh.

 

She stiffens when she hears one of her buttons pop open, Seungwan's fingers tracing downwards as if to remove all of them again.

 

Seungwan looks too content sitting on her stomach.

 

“I should be touching you,” Irene swallows a groan when Seungwan's lips trace her collarbone. “I should be having my way with you.”

 

“…Aren't you?”

 

Irene manages to stay focused, ignoring the feral want of touching Seungwan, her free hand tightened into a fist by her side.

 

Number one priority is finding the keys.

 

Seungwan laughs. “Not as much as I would want to.”

 

Irene ignores how there are fingers steadily peeling off buttons that keeps her skin hidden from the cold - and from Seungwan.

 

There are six left.

 

“I get annoyed when I see you're all covered up, you know.”

 

Seungwan's leaning back, tucking her hair behind her ear. Irene tries not to groan at her shift, hates how there's friction against her lap and the warm space between Seungwan's thighs.

 

Why does Seungwan always have to wear a dress? Better yet, why does Seungwan have to sit on her? She's already defenseless enough.

 

“People wear clothes for a reason, Seungwan.”

 

Irene’s gaze scours the room, looking for a shimmer of silver - hopes that the keys are at least within the vicinity; ignores how Seungwan's hands continue to travel lower.

 

Five remains.

 

“Well, it's just the two of us, now.” Seungwan's finger prods at Irene's brow, feels a gentle tap against the little hairs. “Why aren't you looking at me?”

 

“Unless you have the keys, there's no point.”

 

Irene's gaze swivels back to Seungwan as soon as she feels her shirt ride up, watches her deliberately lift the ends so fingers can slither beneath it. Shudders tremor her limbs as soon as Seungwan begins to trace up her stomach, feels her fiddle with the edges of her bra.

 

“Then maybe you should pay attention to me a little more.”

 

Pop goes another one. Four left.

 

Irene frowns, ignores the smug grin on Seungwan's face, hastily trying to find where a set of keys could be hiding in clothes that barely have any secrets to keep.

 

Seungwan’s tube dress hugs tight to her curves, the length above her knees, her shoulders free to show off skin that calls for sprinkles of kisses and hugs.

 

No pockets exist either, so where could it be? Could she even trust her when it comes to something like this?

 

“Or maybe I'm just a great distraction,” Seungwan leans low, kisses her temple. “Who knows. I just love it when you’re watching me.”

 

Of course.

 

Pop. Three more to go.

 

Irene's not sure if the idea that flickers through her mind is a good one. In fact, it's probably the worst she's ever had, but if it means setting herself free and getting away from Seungwan’s tempting touches, then it's a plan she could get behind.

 

A hiss breezes between her lips when Seungwan's teeth scrapes the shell of her ear, shutting her eyes, a groan escaping to join along when Seungwan shifts her weight to press their chests together.

 

The cuffs clink, chain stretched to taut at the force Irene can't help but make when Seungwan kisses her throat, fist quaking to move anywhere - just to do something. Her free hand open and closes by her side, twitching.

 

Pop. There's two left.

 

“You’re so tense, Joohyun.” Seungwan's placing a hand over Irene's hanging fist, chain clanking at the movement. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

 

Irene knows Seungwan won't do more than unbutton her shirt and flutter fingers and lips across her skin, but it doesn't help that her voice sounds like liquid gold; melting into her ears and winding her up to want _more._

 

Pop. Only one left.

 

“I just want to be a little closer to you.”

 

_Now._

 

Irene doesn't waste the opportunity, leaning up to kiss a defined jaw as soon as Seungwan hovers closer, ignores how Seungwan's breath hitches once she explores the expanse of Seungwan's curves with her free hand.

 

If she can't see the keys, then she'll have to feel for it.

 

“...What's gotten into you, Joohyun?”

 

Irene masks her intentions with a breathy kiss against Seungwan's throat, muttering across delicate skin, painting a smile when Seungwan arches to let her in.

 

“I just want to be closer, too.”

 

Now where are those keys?

 

Fingers trace up Seungwan's hips, dancing along her waist, following the trails of Seungwan's zipper that holds her dress up at the back. No hidden pockets.

 

Irene peeks at alabaster skin along Seungwan's neck to the dips of her collarbones, eyes tracing lower, notes the tiny amethyst pendant hanging above her chest. The only other place a woman can hide smaller things is—

 

“That sounds lovely,” Seungwan's words thrum against her ear, feels Seungwan's hands grip her shoulders. “But I won't fall for it.”

 

—in their bra.

 

Irene grunts when Seungwan pushes her back down, catching a glimmer of silver between the crevices of Seungwan's violet bra. She scowls when Seungwan readjusts the edges of her tube dress, a smug smile plastering her lips, hiding away the little opening and making the keys that much more difficult to reach.

 

She holds her breath when Seungwan plucks off the final button on her shirt, cool air breezing across her skin, fingers daintily spreading her blouse apart.

 

“I should punish you for trying to trick me,” shivers crawl along her limbs at Seungwan's fiery lips drawing ember words against her chest, “leave something behind for you to remember me by. But I won’t.”

 

Irene scowls at the cheeky grin Seungwan sends her way, watches her sit up, boiling up another groan in Irene's throat for the shift against her hips. She swears that Seungwan's doing it on purpose - the slow intimacy of pressing together.

 

Seungwan taps her nose.

 

“Unzip me.”

 

Irene jolts up, cuffs clinking to a stretch.

 

“W-What?”

 

“You want the keys, don't you?” Seungwan leans back, dancing fingers along the top edges of her dress. “You can't reach it unless you do.”

 

Irene would argue that she has a free hand to reach down and yank the keys out, but that would be both inappropriate and rude - and not to mention a violation of personal space (as if Seungwan wasn't already intruding on hers).

 

Seungwan leans in, forces her back down on the mattress. Irene's getting tired of being stuck, the rattle and clinks of her cuffs a painful reminder. Even her wrist is exhausted from hanging for this long.

 

“So, unzip me.”

 

Irene narrows her eyes, pretends the jasmine wafting in, filling her senses, isn't distracting - that all she cares about is Seungwan being close enough for her to grab the item and run free.

 

The hollow dip of her chest is teasing of the small set of keys glinting between them.

 

“Like what you see?”

 

Irene scoffs. “I don't need to undress you to get the keys, Seungwan.”

 

“I know,” Seungwan's taking Irene's free hand, guides her to the zipper latched onto her back. “But I won't let you get them any other way.”

 

It shouldn't be this complicated. It shouldn't even be taking this much time, but Seungwan's dragging this out longer than it needs to be.

 

Irene scrunches her nose when Seungwan taps it again.

 

“So? Don't you want to go free? Or have you warmed up to the idea of being under me?”

 

Another scoff plagues Irene's throat, ignoring Seungwan's fluttering eyelashes and the sly curves of her mouth.

 

“Why does it feel like you just want me to undress you?”

 

Seungwan laughs. “Because you won’t take my clothes off for any other reason.” Irene's feels fingers curl beneath her chin, make her look up. “Besides, it isn't a secret. I want you to strip me. Haven’t I been making myself clear?”

 

Irene pretends that the warm pink hasn't reached up her face, just shy beneath her eyelids.

 

“Transparent.”

 

Seungwan’s chuckles only makes the heat beneath her cheeks rise to her ears, lava soaking them in, drenching skin in fire that's as hot as her stove.

 

“Now hurry up. Or would you rather we stay like this for the rest of the evening?”

 

Irene runs a frustrated hand through her hair, groaning at the grin Seungwan continues to send her way. She’s clearly having way too much fun with this.

 

“Fine.” Her hand slumps beside her, out of defeat, relieving the stress crawling through her limb.

 

When she attempts to reach out, finally finish this silly predicament and get out, Irene didn’t think it could get any worse.

 

Seungwan is laughing. “Wow, Hyunnie. I thought you weren’t into being stuck with me.”

 

Irene scowls, wondering how in the world the clasp of her watch got trapped against Seungwan’s fishnets. Ridiculous.

 

“I’m not,” she grunts, attempts to yank it out. “It’s this _watch—!_ “

 

“Wha— _hey,_ watch it, this is my only pair!” Seungwan’s yelp would’ve made Irene laugh for how startled she sounds, but it’s hard to find joy in being trapped – now with _both_ hands.

 

Irene fumes when she attempts to wriggle it out and it still doesn’t work.

 

“What are those stockings made out of? Glue?”

 

Seungwan grips her wrist. “Maybe if you weren’t so frantic with it, it’d slip off better.”

 

Irene gives up, plopping back down, sighing. She feels Seungwan maneuver her wrist, wiggling a bit before her watch is finally free; at least one hand is back.

 

“…Thanks.” She says, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to just rest.

 

Seungwan’s chuckling, prodding her forehead.

 

“Fishnets are supposed to make me feel sexy, not silly.” She pauses, dragging her finger over Irene’s left brow. “Then again, anything that gets me stuck with you isn't a bad thing in my book.”

 

Irene snorts.

 

Silence falls over them, listening to how her heart slows to a regular pace, eyes shut to catch her breath. Seungwan’s quiet lips don’t last long, which Irene expects, but not the question that spills into her ears.

 

“Will we ever be more than just Friday night dates and weekend sleepovers?”

 

It’s more genuine than Irene’s used to, wondering if Seungwan is even aware of what she has just said out loud.

 

The answer isn’t difficult.

 

 

“We can meet every day of the week. It doesn’t matter to me.”

 

Irene sees nothing wrong with booking more appointments to spend additional time with Seungwan. It’s more of whether their schedules would match. But at least this way, she could monitor the bruises that Side-Swept Hair tends to leave on Seungwan’s skin better; deduce which day he falls on and somehow get Seungwan to choose her over him.

 

But knowing that Seungwan won’t accept her payments, wouldn’t it be bad for her business? It’d be harder to keep up with the fees too knowing she isn’t as financially well-off as Seungwan’s clients appear to be.

 

But above all, how will she convince Seungwan to quit escorting entirely when she makes it sound like it’s the only thing she knows how to do?

 

Irene blinks at the sound of metal clinking, finding her hand finally free, feeling Seungwan slide off her lap and settling to lie down next to her instead.

 

She massages her wrist, grateful that despite the pink circling her skin, it isn’t deep enough to stay longer than necessary.

 

“…That’s not what I meant.” Seungwan’s closer again, her hand cradling the side of her jaw, forcing Irene to turn her head. “What are we, Joohyun?”

 

Irene frowns, trying not to notice how Seungwan massages the back of her ear, drawing circles.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Are we friends?”

 

She blinks. “Of course.”

 

But as soon as the words leave Irene’s mouth, Seungwan’s leaning in, as if to swallow the syllables before they fly off too far; Irene tastes the familiar mix of raspberries and cherries, inhaling jasmine.

 

It shuts down whatever excuses attempt to grow in Irene’s head, pressing closer, wanting to breathe in every speck of Seungwan.

 

“…Friends kiss each other like this?”

 

Seungwan’s question scribbles against her lips. It’s dizzying. And it erases every thought that tries to settle in Irene’s head. She can’t answer. Not when all she wants is to kiss Seungwan again.

 

She hears laughter. “Never mind, I’m just thinking too much.”

 

Irene wants to laugh with her but it’s hard. How ironic that she can’t think at all.

 

“Now come on,” Seungwan’s hands are back to her buttons, sealing them up one by one. “There’s a drama series I’ve been wanting to catch tonight. You don’t happen to still have popcorn left, do you?”

 

For some reason, Seungwan’s chattering lips sounds too chirpy – too happy, too bright, when all Irene can see is frustration coating her eyes. At her or at herself, Irene can’t tell.

 

She just knows that Seungwan looks like she wants to run away.

 

Irene catches her wrist, pauses Seungwan’s fingers crawling up her shirt, reaching out to curl strands behind Seungwan’s ear. Confusion is easy to read on her skin; how her brows furrow, her lips curved into a pout.

 

“So I could see your pretty face better.”

 

Seungwan blinks at her, watches how her expression shifts like a roll of film, the wrinkles between her brows loosening, the lines on her mouth curling upwards. Irene can finally see pearly whites peek between pink lips.

 

“Took you quite a while to finally say that pickup line, huh.”

 

Irene laughs, letting herself be dragged from the bed when Seungwan continues to ramble on about the show she wants to watch – and that they’d probably need boxes of tissue for the waterworks.

 

For now, as she settles on the couch with Seungwan, covered in blankets and flecks of spilled popcorn, Irene watches the wide range of expressions Seungwan makes during the course of the show, fascinated with the seemingly endless amounts of happiness along her skin.

 

Irene feels a smile tilt the corners of her lips, leaning back enough just so she could watch Seungwan better, and wonders how to tell her that “No, friends don’t kiss each other” without letting her mind blank out on her next time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t stop replaying Wendy’s character teaser for Red Velvet’s Bad Boy; have myself dedicate at least two replays every day for it because it was just that beautiful. Love this comeback the most. And that Joyrene had me knocked out for the rest of the first day’s release. I’m happy.
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update. Until next time.


	7. Tempo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joy's never been interested in altruism. Her fingers don't itch to do noble deeds Iike Joohyun - she doesn't bleed to provide help, especially when it isn't necessary.

Joy's never been interested in altruism. Her fingers don't itch to do noble deeds Iike Joohyun - she doesn't bleed to provide help, especially when it isn't necessary.

 

Joy knows Wendy doesn't need any of it.

 

Which is why it's a little worrisome that Wendy soaks up Joohyun's kindness like a dried out sponge - thirsty for attention and her presence and just _her._

 

But Joy trusts Joohyun's decision to keep Wendy around; she's never doubted Joohyun's judgment, even if it's sometimes questionable at best. But Joohyun's been going out of her way to keep up appointments with Wendy that Joy's inclined to feel it's more than just altruism at this point.

 

She wonders if Joohyun even realizes it, yet.

 

But whatever it is, hopefully she could trust Wendy to not take advantage of it.

 

“You're going to need this.”

 

Joy drops the set of keys onto Wendy's palm.

 

Wendy furrows her brows, staring at the small chunks of metal before settling it inside her bra. Joy snorts.

 

A smile quirks up her lips. “You said I'll need it, right? No better place to hide it than in this.”

 

Joy grins.

 

At least she could trust Wendy to be witty and quick.

 

“Smart.” She slips on her boots, kneeling to tug on the laces. “You two going anywhere?”

 

“Maybe.” Wendy’s combing back her hair. “Depends how long it takes for Joohyun to come out and greet me.”

 

Joy holds in the laughter eager to burst from her throat, hides it behind thin lips; Wendy will figure it out soon enough. No need to ruin the surprise.

 

“I'll be going, then.”

 

She bids Wendy a lazy wave of goodbye, swallowing giggles when Wendy stalks off towards Joohyun's bedroom, no doubt about to find a little fun in the next few seconds.

 

Joy clicks the door to their apartment, closed; letting the smile drop from her face as soon as she knows no one can see.

 

As much as she'd like Joohyun to be aware of everything, it's good that Joohyun isn't as quick when in her presence; cuffing her should provide ample time to keep Seulgi from seeing Wendy out and about – and within their vicinity.

 

Joy sighs, feeling for her cellphone vibrating in her pocket.

 

“Hey, Captain. I'm on my way.”

 

Seulgi snorts. _“Since when did you start addressing me with respect?”_

 

Joy is inclined to say, _Since you found out Joohyun unnie is connected to Wendy,_ but that would be detrimental to the little progress she's made.

 

To think Plan A had been scratched off quickly because of a dinner Joohyun had with Seulgi - all because Wendy happened to be there, too. It almost seems like the universe _wants_ them to get caught.

 

“I figured you deserve it, once in a while.”

 

Seulgi's chuckles worm their way through her ear. Joy watches the numbers count down in the elevator, the soft hum of music wafting through.

 

_“Mind if we stick around a little bit?”_

 

Seulgi's question startles her once the metal doors open, catching her captain wave from a distance, settling comfortably on a sofa in the lobby.

 

“What for?”

 

Joy watches her shrug, her voice spilling from the phone and into Joy's ear again.

 

 _“I just arrived. I'm not in a hurry to leave.”_ Seulgi pauses, a brow raised. _“Are you?”_

 

Joy makes sure her face doesn't give anything away.

 

“Nope.”

 

Good thing she cuffed Joohyun, then. Knowing Wendy (at least, from the short moments she's had with her), she'd probably spend as much time as possible keeping Joohyun trapped; if only to prolong the inevitable, tease the older woman out of fun.

 

Hopefully Seulgi doesn't stick around for too long, though. Just in case. Wendy _did_ say they might go somewhere.

 

She can’t tell if Seulgi didn’t already see Wendy enter, though. That’s a problem.

 

“You're usually the eager one to work, unnie.”

 

Joy snaps her phone shut once she's close enough to count the wrinkles along the corners of Seulgi's smile, shifting to sit beside her on the couch, the sun drawing lines across Seulgi's lap.

 

“I thought it'd be nice to take it a little slower, today.”

 

Seulgi doesn't look like she knows that Wendy's here. At least, not with the calm expression she currently wears, laidback and comfortable against the couch.

 

But then again, Seulgi's always been the actress.

 

Must be boring to go by the book and be the lawful one.

 

Joy lifts her foot to rest on her knee, fiddling with the straps of her boot. Hm. Should re-tie it and knot it again; it's gotten loose.

 

“She did something about it,” Seulgi says, drawing invisible shapes on her leg.

 

“Who?”

 

Geez, the laces are already tearing at the ends. Time for a new pair.

 

“Your roommate, Joohyun unnie.” Seulgi nudges her elbow, “About buying Wendy's time. Not that she ever admits it.”

 

Joy pretends she doesn't feel her heart freeze up, fingers twitching to a pause before the gears start to turn and she's back to fiddling with the straps of her boot, again.

 

“And?”

 

She feels Seulgi's stare digging into the side of her head. “You haven't bothered asking her about it?”

 

Joy shrugs. “Not really.”

 

“But you like snooping around.” Confusion is palpable on Seulgi's tongue, “I'm surprised you haven't questioned her, yet.”

 

She'd like to argue that it's hard to snoop on someone she doesn't exactly _want_ to snoop on; especially when it concerns a good friend's potential arrest. Sure, it isn't like Wendy and Joohyun has done anything together to call for jail time, but it's not like Wendy, alone, is completely clear, either.

 

Knowing Joohyun, she'd voluntarily get herself stuck in the middle of Wendy's mess, and Joy's not about to let Joohyun dive in without at least, softening the fall.

 

“She said they're friends, so...”

 

“And you believe her?”

 

Joy sighs, rubbing her temple. “Just because I'm a police officer, it doesn't mean I'm going to start doubting what my friends tell me.”

 

Seulgi hums, quiet, leaning back on the couch.

 

A moment of reprieve is appreciated, feeling herself take steadier breaths again, the tension easing off her muscles. God, with how much stress friendship puts on her lungs and heart, Joy hopes Joohyun can convince Wendy to quit soon enough.

 

“Wendy’s already giving her away, you know.” Seulgi twiddles with the ends of her sleeves, “She's not exactly subtle about it when she gushes to me about Joohyun unnie during her visits at the hospital. She's never said that they were friends.”

 

Oh.

 

 _Crap._ How much did Seulgi already know?

 

Joy thought she just had to worry about Joohyun; that Joohyun's obvious attraction to Wendy would hinder her better judgement, force her decisions to be sprinkled by an escort's temptation - that she'd have to play as the reasonable friend for Joohyun's unreasonable choices.

 

But it turns out Wendy's the one she should be looking out for. Seulgi fiddles with friendship as easily as she throws steps on the dance floor (only because their squad loves to make parties a thing even when there isn't anything to celebrate).

 

If anything, Seulgi should've been an actress, instead.

 

“Must be nice pretending to be an airhead. No one expects you to pay attention to anything.” Joy says, dusting off lint from her knees. “If she's eligible for arrest, I'm taking it.”

 

“Even though Joohyun unnie is your friend and roommate?”

 

The corner of Joy's lips twitch to smile. “ _Especially_ because I'm her friend and roommate.”

 

Seulgi's shifting to stand, stretching her arms over her head, puddles of sunlight spilling across her badge and handcuffs tucked comfortably on her belt, gleaming as if to show off how much Seulgi wears them like a second skin.

 

Joy turns to look at a family of four, pretends it doesn't terrify her that at the end of the day, Seulgi's a cop; first and foremost.

 

“You know you shouldn't be letting your feelings affect your work, right?”

 

Joy scowls. “I know. And it's not.”

 

Seulgi pats her shoulder, ushers her up with a grin and a knowing look.

 

“So what's the status with Mister Biter? Is his favorite still Wendy?”

 

Joy combs back ebony from her face, following Seulgi's trek towards her car, pushing through wooden doors to feel the evening chill.

 

“Considering he's been staying at the same hotel for three weeks now, yes.” She slithers into the seat next to Seulgi, pulls up paperwork from the compartment, reading out the notes she’s jotted down the past few weeks she’s been here. “Wendy's been visiting his room every Tuesday. I guess he's gotten comfortable now that Wendy's back to accepting appointments with him. He doesn't feel the need to leave his hideout.”

 

Seulgi shifts gears, wheels crunching against gravel as they slip out of the parking lot.

 

“And?”

 

“So that means the only problem is if Joohyun unnie finds out about their new schedule and replaces him.” Joy continues, watches Seulgi dance fingers along the steering wheel, a frown lining her lips; she tells her boss what she already knows. “We can't have him angry and disappearing again if we want this operation to work.”

 

Seulgi only nods. Joy knows she's thinking of the next course of action, so she leans against the window, hopes that whatever it is that’s going through Seulgi’s mind, it doesn't do more harm than good - for Joohyun, anyway.

 

Joohyun's frustratingly adamant to keep booking appointments with Wendy. It didn't take long for her (and the rest of her squad mates) to figure out that she had replaced the one client that shouldn't have been replaced.

 

Four year's worth of police work just to find the right-hand man for a human trafficking ring hangs on his obsession with Wendy. Joohyun's the only reason it could all fall apart.

 

Joy bites her lip. She hates how difficult it is to convince Joohyun; she wasn't kidding when she said that not all of Wendy's clients were good people.

 

“Then she can’t know.”

 

She almost scoffs at how simple Seulgi makes it sound. Hasn’t she _met_ Joohyun? The woman’s an iron door.

 

“You're asking me to get her to back off?”

 

Seulgi's gaze flickers towards her, brief but it's still too long, before turning to focus back on the road.

 

“I'm not asking.”

 

Joy knows an order when she hears one - recognizes how the tone in her voice shifts; tilts a bit at the end, curves into edges sharper than the soft often found on Seulgi's tongue.

 

She grits her teeth behind closed lips.

 

“Whatever you say, Cap.”

 

-

 

Joohyun is cruel.

 

Wendy wonders if Joohyun knows that about herself – an aspect that's almost as obvious as blaring red paint splattered on a canvas of white; peeking out between Joohyun's soft smiles and gentle hands.

 

Cruelty spills whenever Joohyun looks her way, how she weaves their fingers together to fill in the gaps between their hands, shower her with warm grins and promises of next time – _See you Friday, Seungwan._

 

Always, Wendy leaves with a happy smile and an even happier heart – and she's not supposed to be getting used to it.

 

It gets worse.

 

“Can I see you?” Joohyun's question holds Wendy's heart better than any love confession, watches her rub her wrists where the handcuffs had been. “Not just on Fridays, I mean.”

 

Wendy wonders if Joohyun's thought about the weight of those words - if she's even considered what it'd do to someone as weak as her.

 

Her heart's become too giddy, feeling it crawl eagerly up her throat, attempt to leap out and squeeze Joohyun whole.

 

Wendy reels it back in, swallows whatever she can before she spills out obnoxious words like _every day,_ or _every night,_ or even worse, _every hour._

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Joohyun fiddles with the buckle of her watch. “What's your schedule for next week?”

 

“Why?”

 

Wendy hates how she sounds like a broken record.

 

“I figured that on some days, maybe I'd be able to go with you.” Joohyun shrugs, casual like she isn't stringing Wendy's heart along with each syllable. “Drop you off, keep you company before and after your shifts.”

 

Wendy hates that she likes being pulled in.

 

“That's quite a lot of time you're willing to dedicate, Hyunnie.” She leans back into the couch, feels herself sink into familiar cushions that she had shared with Joohyun that one night. “Don't you have other things to worry about? Like school and work?”

 

Joohyun shrugs again. “I can study in between. And I'll only go with you if I don't have a shift scheduled for that day.”

 

“I don’t know...”

 

It's one thing to get attached to a client; it's another thing entirely to let one keep her company.

 

“I'd just be driving you around and waiting at the lobby.”

 

Joohyun’s ignorance is on another level; she should know by now that Wendy wants nothing more than Joohyun’s constant presence - but that’s detrimental all on its own.

 

Wendy lists with her fingers all the reasons why Joohyun shouldn’t stay so close, even if she knows that none of them matter once Joohyun’s made up her mind.

 

“So you're willing to drop me off to have sex, wait for me somewhere while I have sex, keep me company after sex, and do it all over again?”

 

The corners of Joohyun’s lips twitch. “...Yes.”

 

Wendy knows she doesn't have to mention it so explicitly. It’s not like she has sex with _every_ client, either. But emphasizing exactly what Joohyun is asking for is important - let her know precisely what baggage she's offering to carry.

 

But to think Joohyun wants to accompany her to work – does that fall under friendship?

 

“...Why?” Wendy fiddles with a strand of auburn, wonders if Joohyun can hear stubborn hope crawling up her throat.

 

Joohyun makes everything sound so simple. “Do you already have someone else to drive you?”

 

“That's not what I'm asking, Joohyun.” Wendy reaches out, fingers drawing zig-zags across the back of Joohyun’s hand.

 

She watches pretty lips curve downwards. “But you didn't answer my question,”

 

“Because you didn't answer mine.” Wendy smiles at the frown Joohyun wears, hopes that the circles she’s sketching on Joohyun’s skin helps ease the wrinkles. “Why would you keep me company?”

 

“Because I want to.”

 

One thing she could always count on is Joohyun's shameless candor. No one really says what they want to as bluntly as Joohyun.

 

Other than Joy, of course, but she’s another problem entirely.

 

_(“You’re going to need this.”)_

 

Wendy swears she caught a glimpse of a silver-plated police badge hooked on Joy’s belt just before she handed her the keys to Joohyun's handcuffs.

 

Initially it bothered her that it seemed like they had roleplayed cops-and-robbers, but it got her thinking: why would Joy still be wearing a badge out the door? Why would she keep Joohyun stuck to her bedpost if not to make them stay? Leave them out of something?

 

“Do you like me?”

 

She'll worry about Joy, later.

 

For now, she’s concerned with the fact that Joohyun still isn't answering her, because why does she want to? What is there to gain from keeping her company?

 

Wendy's proud of her patience; required for the clients who aren't used to talking about what they want, or how to talk to women in general.

 

“Do you like me?” She repeats, Joohyun's silence dragging on for too long.

 

It's not teasing; just a genuine wonder of what goes on inside Joohyun's head - a swarm of logic and responsibilities no doubt filling every nook and cranny of it.

 

“...Yes.” Joohyun tilts her head, “I wouldn't make time for someone I didn't like.”

 

Wendy sighs, her lips taking on a lopsided smile. For a smart woman, Joohyun's not quick with reading what’s between black and white - and the obvious.

 

“You're still not answering me.”

 

“I am.” Joohyun squeezes their hands, a smile quirking the corners of her mouth. “You're just not listening to me, Seungwan.”

 

There's a finality to her voice. Wendy swears she’s heard it, but Joohyun's tapping her wrist, letting their tangle of fingers loosen to drop, her touch a flickering ember on Wendy's skin - burning in memory as if not to forget.

 

“So are you working Monday night?”

 

Wendy purses her lips.

 

What's even worse than Joohyun asking this is that Wendy's actually considering it.

 

It bothers her how easy it's been to ditch the guidelines she’s made for herself. Or maybe it's just been that flimsy all this time. She barely even recognizes herself in her own head.

 

Rules don't exist when it comes to Joohyun.

 

“I'll let you join me, but on one condition.” Wendy watches Joohyun's brow rise, waiting. “You answer one simple question.”

 

Joohyun grunts. “When you put it that way, it can't be all that simple.”

 

A smile curves the corners of Wendy's lips, knows full well how right on the dot Joohyun is. Not that she'd give it away, of course.

 

“It's easy enough. You've heard it before, anyway.” Wendy taps a finger against her chin, counting all the thoughts in her head practically screaming to ask already. “I just want your honesty. Not that hard, right?”

 

Joohyun crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, suspicion obvious across pools of brown. But she's compliant.

 

“That just means it was a question I didn't care enough to answer. What is it?”

 

Wendy grips the end of Joohyun's sleeve, the tips of her fingers curling to graze Joohyun's. She'll care soon enough.

 

“How did you like my rocking?”

 

Joohyun's hand twitches under her skin, feels her stiffen up, attempt to retract her fingers but Wendy's faster; she latches on before Joohyun could pull away.

 

Wendy chuckles. “You're always avoiding the important questions, Joohyun. I just want one answered for once. So did you, or _didn't_ you, like it?”

 

She should be worrying about pushing Joohyun too much - that somehow, she'll scare her away, but Wendy's beginning to prioritize trying to understand what Joohyun feels and thinks over consequences. Joohyun's been silent for too long already, and it bugs Wendy more than she'd like to admit.

 

She can't be the only one feeling this much haunting attraction - have it follow her on days when she can't see Joohyun. Right?

 

“...It was...” It's obvious how Joohyun struggles to answer her, how her lips stumble on words like she can't find any. “...Nice.”

 

Wendy scoffs, lifting a brow. “That's it? Just 'nice'?”

 

“Nice was enough to kiss you back.” Joohyun turns away, but not enough to have their hands split apart. “That was one question.”

 

Nice was enough to get Joohyun to do all that? The kissing, the licking, the touching, the _moaning—_

 

Wendy hides a growing smile behind shut lips. Guess she'll just have to do better than that.

 

“So you're saying if it was better than nice – if it was good, or even great, then you'd do more?”

 

Joohyun's cheeks flush into a color Wendy's fond of seeing, feels how her own skin begins to warm for probing through uncharted territory - she wants to know more.

 

“Why does this matter, Seungwan?”

 

Wendy wonders what set of words to compile so Joohyun could understand exactly how she feels – have no gaps filled with doubt.

 

She rubs her thumb between Joohyun's knuckles, memorizes the slopes and lines drawn over soft skin.

 

“Because I want you.” Wendy's thankful for her blunt tongue, especially when it comes to situations so dire where one is more dense than an opaque glass. “And I want to know if you want me, too.”

 

When she thinks about it, Joohyun's not the type to be vocal about her emotions. She doesn't seem to like depending on others - at least, not when it's something as deep and irrational as feelings.

 

Wendy could tell by the way Joohyun carries herself - the intonations of her speech, the sure but rigid curves in her posture, her soft and quiet, but no less commanding, steps - she holds herself to a degree that doesn't invite help.

 

She wonders if Joohyun's even considered thinking about something as elusive as feelings. Has she ever given much thought to her own emotions?

 

“I want you.” Wendy blinks at certainty that worms its way into her ears, Joohyun's brows furrowed as if to question. “That was the first thing I said to you, wasn't it? That hasn't changed.”

 

_(That's fine. I don't want anyone else.)_

 

Wendy remembers that text. But that's different. It means something else entirely. Things have become more than that; it _has_ to be more than that. She can't be the only one who feels this way – it wouldn't be fair.

 

Wendy hopes there's more to it than that.

 

“...Good.”

 

She doesn’t pressure her anymore, not when Joohyun looks like she prefers to run away at the next set of questions.

 

She’ll save it for another time, settling for the little truths she got to hear, squishing up against Joohyun and pretends to be interested in a drama series that has nothing much to offer but slapstick comedy.

 

Joohyun’s bouts of laughter here and there are enough to ease Wendy’s impatience.

 

-

 

Wendy traded dreams for a better paycheck.

 

Singer. Songwriter. Composer. Pianist. Anything that had to do with music, Wendy wanted to be a part of it.

 

Not that she regrets letting go of them. Maybe others consider sleeping with people a poor choice of mind - even equivalent to selling the soul, giving pieces of herself along the way. But it's nothing like that. She'd have to be investing parts of herself first to leave anything behind.

 

The only thing she contributes is her time, and going on the clock for the sake of Yerim will always be a time well spent.

 

Which is why Joohyun's wasting her time. It's not for Yerim, and it's certainly not for practice when she's already been with female clients. But Wendy _wants_ Joohyun's time, have it extend past the evening, well into the morning, maybe even start another day with her. Or two. Or three. Better yet, make it a week.

 

Wendy can't remember a time she's been this selfish. It's kind of nice.

 

“Hey,” her thoughts dwindle into a smile Wendy's gotten used to wearing, “you look like you're thinking too much, Seungwan. It's only morning.”

 

Joohyun is the first person Wendy's ever woken up with.

 

Wendy's slept with more people than there were numbers, but she never settles to see them any later than midnight. It was never about how many she could have - or about how many would fall to their knees, bend for her every wish, provide her more than she'd need.

 

Financial stability for two was enough. Wendy wasn't looking for company to greet in the morning.

 

“Hey, you.” Wendy taps the bridge of Joohyun's nose, smiling when Joohyun's face scrunches in response. “Go brush your teeth. Your breath stinks.”

 

But Wendy is always looking forward to mornings with Joohyun.

 

She doesn't know when their times spent together evolved into something as mundane as this; how easy it is to talk to Joohyun, more relaxed, even homey, and not for what it should be.

 

Then again, Joohyun considers them to be friends. Isn't this how friendship is? Comfortable?

 

“You're the one breathing down my face,” Joohyun, always the one to argue, shifts to sit up, forcing Wendy to roll off her safe space against her human pillow. “What time is it?”

 

Wendy turns towards the clock, 8:45 AM blaring in red.

 

“Early enough for you to not be late for work, Hyunnie.”

 

Joohyun chuckles. “Good. Better than last time, at least.”

 

Wendy shifts forward, a teasing grin already lighting up along her lips, reaching out to slither an arm under Joohyun's elbow, snuggle up against her side.

 

“Better than seeing my naked back? I'm kind of hurt.” As expected, she feels Joohyun jolt, squeezing her a little tighter because Joohyun never fails to be adorable. “I take care of my skin pretty well, you know. It's softer than it looks.”

 

“I know,” Wendy blinks just as Joohyun begins to ramble on, shifting away and gesturing with flailing hands like it'd wave off the implications. “I – I mean, I only know because it was necessary to touch you since your bra was off, so... “

 

“So you touch me only when it's necessary?” Wendy grins, “Then why didn't you dry me off when I needed you?”

 

Joohyun must've gotten enough practice from all of her teasing to be able to segue into the bathroom, form rational excuses of “time to start the day” and “need to brush my teeth” before stumbling off the bed, disappearing around the corner.

 

Wendy laughs, slumping back into the mattress and the mess of blankets and pillows they shared last night, snuggling into one and breathing in lavender so potent on Joohyun. It helps distract her from the one thought that continues to plague her mind: she hasn't listened to the voices saved in her cellphone in a long time.

 

Maybe that's a good thing.

 

 _“By the way, I got an extra toothbrush for you to use.”_ Joohyun’s voice is muffled by walls too thin that she could still discern the words (which isn’t really good if ever they manage to make certain sounds together), _“Want it?”_

 

Wendy hates how easy it is for Joohyun to jumpstart her heart so early in the morning; the mere thought of brushing their teeth together is both lovely and masochistic. She wouldn’t be able to do her morning routine without imagining what could be.

 

She hopes her heart isn’t loud on her tongue, squishing her face into a purple pillow, yelling out _after you,_ and sinking deeper into the cushion at Joohyun’s lighthearted _okay._

 

God, none of this is okay.

 

She sits up, combing her fingers through her hair, staring at the mess of blankets and pillows; she’s getting too used to this.

 

Wendy stretches her arms over her head, wincing at the strike of sunlight hitting her eyes, the sound of water running slithering into her ears.

 

She wonders if Joy’s home; she’s never been able to deduce the woman’s work schedule, but all she knows is that if Joy’s really what she thinks she is, then she hasn’t been doing her job right. Why hasn’t she cuffed her, yet? Is it because Joohyun’s her friend?

She yawns, standing up to stretch her legs; she won’t let her worries ruin a great morning.

 

Wendy wraps a blanket around her, loving the security of warmth and lavender, and circles slow steps around Joohyun's room.

 

She flutters fingers down the sleeve of a white coat, picturing Joohyun wearing it and wonders how she hasn't seen her in it, yet. She should ask which hospital she works for, later.

 

Trekking towards the desk littered with notes and textbooks, pens and pencils, Wendy smiles at the illusion of Joohyun studying. She's already seen it before, but it never stops making her lips curve upwards at the image.

 

She remembers flicking through too many pages of her textbooks for things like music theory, the histories of classical musicians, and learning how to transcribe and compose music of her own.

 

Wendy could imagine them studying together; at the library, on the floor of Joohyun’s apartment, even in the home she shares with Yerim - hell, they could even study _with_ Yerim. Maybe even have Yerim's little sisters running around making a mess everywhere.

 

It sounds kind of nice.

 

“Hey, you okay?”

 

Wendy jolts, yanking her hand back from the edges of an open textbook, looking up to find Joohyun with curiosity and wonder etched on her face; the arch of her brow, the confused smile on her lips - she looks absolutely amazing looking lost.

 

“Oh, um,” she blinks away a pretty dream, tucking her hair back. “Nothing. Just thinking. You mentioned an extra toothbrush, right?”

 

Joohyun slowly nods, like she’s having a hard time processing what she just asked, raising a hand; fingers curled around an item.

 

Wendy takes it, brushing past with hurried steps towards the bathroom; she hopes that Joohyun hadn’t noticed her eyes coated with longing she isn’t used to feeling.

 

“Thanks, I’ll be right back.”

 

She rips open the plastic casing, wrenching out the toothbrush like the force would somehow yank out every bit of imagination from her mind’s eye, too. How stupid.

 

All she sees in the mirror is a movie reel of what she doesn’t have; textbooks and laughter and a pretty fantasy.

 

-

 

Wendy expects heartbreak, but not from Joohyun.

 

Maybe that was why it hurt more than it should have.

 

“Oh? That's a lot of envelopes.” Wendy comes back from watching a lucid dream in the mirror, finding Joohyun sorting through her drawer filled with purple paper. “What are those for, anyway?”

 

Joohyun’s stuffing cash into one. “You,”

 

Wendy pauses midway through the bedroom door, hand gripping the edge of Joohyun’s desk to steady herself. She feels a wave of emotions swirl in her stomach; there’s a twist in her gut, limbs freezing up like they’ve malfunctioned. Did she hear right?

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“For you,” Joohyun says again, but all Wendy wants to do is push the drawer to a close, hide away what’s starting to scare Wendy the most. “Just in case you need it. You haven't been taking my payments, so I thought that—”

 

Wendy bristles, the gears in her limbs moving again at the reality of what Joohyun is saying.

 

“…That what, you could _continue_ to pay for our time together behind my back?”

 

Joohyun’s lips curve into a frown, deeper than Wendy’s ever seen. But that isn’t the issue.

 

“What's the problem?”

 

Wendy wants to yank her hair out. She can’t believe she had just considered a future with her reflected in the bathroom mirror; that maybe if she saved for more than just comfort, have enough to provide for her own education too, even for Yerim’s sisters once she finds them, then—

 

“That's _exactly_ my problem,” she’s seething, a quiet anger seeping along her skin, curling her hands into fists; ember is scathing up her throat. “You don't think it's a problem _at all!_ ”

 

Joohyun narrows her eyes.

 

“Why would it be?” Her calculative calm strikes a nerve, her words measured like a balanced scale; Joohyun rationalizes as easy as she breathes. “In case you ever need it, it’d be right here—”

 

“Don't do that.” Wendy takes in a breath, two, then three. “Just take it. Use it for something useful. Don't bother doing something pointless.”

 

Joohyun’s tongue sharpens. “It's not pointless,”

 

But Wendy’s already used to swallowing daggers and spitting them back out.

 

“It is! You can't just—” she needs to breathe again _– two, three._ “You can’t just set aside money for every night I spend with you! I thought—” words jumble up on Wendy's tongue. “I thought that...”

 

“...Thought what?”

 

 _That we're more than numbers,_ is what Wendy wants to say. She gets it. The practicality of it. That maybe she'd need it, like a separate savings account meant just for her. Hell, she could even add them for a future with Joohyun, but more than anything, Wendy thought their time had no price tag, anymore.

 

“...That we're friends.”

 

Wendy twists around, grabbing her purse and fur coat, slipping her arms through the sleeves. _God,_ she needs to get out of here.

 

Hurried steps trail behind her. “Seungwan, wait.”

 

“No, I'm leaving.”

 

Warmth latches around her wrist, fingers somehow gentle even when it's frantic to hold her still.

 

“Seungwan!”

 

Wendy wrenches her hand back, pretends it doesn't hurt to catch Joohyun wince, twisting around so she can't read pain writing across Joohyun's eyes.

 

She slips her heels on, twisting the lock on the door, hating how she's running away from a Saturday morning that had started off with a happy smile and even happier heart.

 

“Leave me alone, Joohyun. Don’t bother calling me, either.”

 

Joohyun sounds like she’s pleading. “Seungwan, will you just _listen—_ ”

 

Wendy spins back, words squeezing between gritted teeth.

 

“Oh I've heard you _loud_ and _clear,_ Joohyun.” She points to the envelope filled with cash in Joohyun's hand, “I can even _see_ it.”

 

Wendy leaves her heart behind, pretending she doesn’t hear Joohyun yell out _wait,_ the door clicking shut – along with every call of _Seungwan._

 

-

 

“You look...moody,”

 

Wendy snorts at the observation, dumping her purse on the couch, slumping into a chair in the kitchen. She’s already changed into more comfortable attire back at her other home; she’d rather avoid unnecessary questions from Yerim.

 

“Thanks,” she says, pouring herself a cup of water. “It’s just been a long day.”

 

Yerim’s curiosity bleeds between each syllable. “But it’s only eleven-thirty in the morning?”

 

“...It’s been a long morning,”

 

“Right…” Yerim’s slithering around the kitchen counter, hair mussed, still in her PJ’s. “...Where have you been?”

 

Wendy turns away, flicking through channels on the television and hopes it drowns out every question that’s probably bouncing around in Yerim’s head. She needs to find the channel Yerim’s been currently obsessed with. Was it the cooking show?

 

“At a friend’s,”

 

“Which friend?”

 

“You don’t know them,”

 

Yerim hums, shifting to sit on the couch, slumping into the cushion. “...Bad breakup?”

 

Wendy spits her drink, coughing out remnants still clogging her throat, wiping off the flecks that stain the corners of her lips. Did she just hear her right?

 

“W-What?”

 

“Come on, unnie.” Yerim’s mouth is curled up into a teasing grin, brows wiggling. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been wearing stronger perfume - what was the brand, again? Jasmine? And don’t even get me started on the fancy outfits you’ve been hiding away in your closet.” She raises a hand, clicking her tongue. “Before you ask, yes, I like exploring the house, okay?”

 

By the sound of Yerim’s lighthearted jabs, she hasn’t put together the entire truth.

 

Wendy chuckles, settling for the imagination Yerim’s conjured up.

 

“Fine, fine.” She waves her hand around, “You got me. It was a bad breakup.”

 

Yerim shoots up from the couch, eyes twinkling with both mirth and sympathy; her lips curving into slopes that make up a mess; she can’t tell if it’s a crooked smile or an ugly frown.

 

“So, um, are you okay? Want me to beat him up for you?” A pause, “Or her? Because I honestly can't tell your preferences, unnie, and I mean, it's kind of wobbly? Like, a see-saw? Not that that's a bad thing. Because it's not. Obviously.”

 

Wendy laughs. “What matters, Yerim-ah, is that I'm over it. Don't worry. I'm okay.”

 

Yerim’s walking over with a sheepish smile and nervous giggles. Wendy feels her rub her back.

 

“Well, that's good. But seriously, unnie. I could beat them up for you, if you want.”

 

She wraps her arms around Yerim, squeezing her close, shutting her eyes at the soft flutter of fingers combing through her hair.

 

She's not sure if Joohyun would still call her up for appointments after what happened (she probably will), but whether she does or doesn't, Wendy knows she wouldn't get over Joohyun. Not for a long time. She doesn’t even know if she could handle not seeing her.

 

She nuzzles Yerim’s stomach; she wants to see Joohyun, already.

 

“Whatever you say, Yerim.”

 

Wendy doesn't point out the picture frame Yerim had put down as soon as she came home.

 

-

 

“I've got the list for what they're auctioning off next month.”

 

Joy flips through it. “A bunch of old paintings that costs millions…?”

 

“Look at the back,”

 

She pauses, eyes scanning down the list of names and faces – feeling sick to her stomach. Even when they’re on break, parked beside a coffee shop, they’re still working. Not that Joy would really complain. She likes working.

 

Just not when it’s cases like _these._

 

“Kids and teens…” Joy reads each text carefully, mumbling each name in her head. She pauses on one. “...Yerim?”

 

Seulgi inches closer. “You know her?”

 

Joy scrutinizes the photo; the blurry pixels don't help, but even with an image, she can't place a face to a name she's only heard once and never seen – when she was on the phone with Joohyun.

 

_(“The name’s Yerim, but you oldies can call me Yeri. And before you get any weird ideas, no, I'm not interested in old people.”)_

 

It couldn't be. Could it?

 

“Maybe,” Joy frowns, slotting it away for later. She'll ask Joohyun when she gets home.

 

Seulgi hums, silence filling the car. It's not until Joy's finished memorizing all the names and faces (as best she can), grabbing her food and finally taking the first bite that Seulgi speaks up again.

 

“Did something happen between Wendy and Joohyun unnie?”

 

Joy’s choking on her sandwich, coughing out bits and spewing them onto the dashboard. Seulgi’s hard slaps to her back helps, if only so she could swallow whatever’s left, grabbing a bottle of water and downing half of it.

 

“W-What did you say?” She clears her throat, sighing once her breathing slows. “Joohyun unnie and Wendy?”

 

“Yeah, did something happen?” Seulgi’s wiping off the flecks of her sandwich off the dashboard with a napkin, lips curved like she’s both scornful and amused. “Joohyun unnie’s been looking a little off these past few days during her rounds. I haven’t seen Wendy yet, but I’ve heard from one of the guys that she’s been seeing our man more often, lately.”

Joy’s noticed it, too.

 

Joohyun’s always up, like she doesn’t sleep, anymore. Studying, working - Joy hasn’t seen her sprawled out on the bed ever since she came back home Sunday evening. She hasn’t even heard her talk about Wendy, and that was already a blaring sign that something had happened.

 

She’s tried on multiple occasions to ask what went wrong, but Joohyun’s never been the type to budge when it comes to anything too close to the heart.

 

“Well, on the bright side, Wendy’s keeping him happy.” Seulgi’s scrolling through her laptop, “He’s gotten sloppier thanks to her. I’ve already slipped in an additional three from our team into the guest list for next month’s private auction.”

 

Joy hums.

 

It’s good news. There’s nothing to be disappointed about; their four years worth of hard work is starting to pay off. It’s actually rather annoying that she still feels a speck of frustration coiled up in her chest.

 

Wendy seeing the man more often meant more bites and bruises - which would likely lead to Joohyun finding out and possibly getting into even _more_ trouble butting in.

 

Joy massages her temples. Geez, if only she didn’t care so much about Joohyun. Stupid friendship.

 

_(“You're asking me to get her to back off?”_

 

_“I'm not asking.”)_

 

Turns out she didn’t have to do anything.

 

“I did what you told me to,” Joy starts, chewing on the last bits of her sandwich to help mask her lie a little easier. “Got her to stay away. It’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

 

Seulgi’s stare is burning the side of her face, as if it could melt into her skin, reach flesh and bones. Joy ignores it, distracting herself with the wrapper, crumbling it into a ball between her hands.

 

“...It is,” she pauses, “I’m glad. I was actually worried that you were going to let your feelings dictate your work. I’m proud of you, Sooyoung-ah.” Joy glances at the touch on her wrist, Seulgi’s gentle patting a rare show of affection. “And, um, I’m sorry if it caused any sort of rift between you and Joohyun unnie. I could clear it up for you? Tell her that I was the one who instructed you?”

 

It’s a nice, albeit, unnecessary sentiment. Not like any of the thoughts Seulgi conjured up on her own actually happened. But this is good. She gets to keep Seulgi’s trust – even earned a bit more of it, too. She could also help out Joohyun and Wendy without being suspected of it, anymore.

 

Joy waves a hand, stuffing the ball of wrapper into Seulgi’s coat pocket, pretends she’s playful and teasing when all she wants is to distract her boss from listening for the truth.

 

“Thanks, but we’re best friends; no escort will get in the way of that.”

 

Seulgi’s giggling and yanking out the wad of wrapper to throw it back at her; laughing out _okay, okay, but I’m not a trash can,_ _Sooyoung_ and Joy just chucks it back until they’re a childish mess of adults playing a kid’s game.

 

When they’re on the road again, Joy thinks back on what she said about their friendship and escorts, and wonders if it still holds true when there’s Wendy.

 

-

 

It’s been a week since their fall out – a storm of clicking heels and words lashed out and the door shutting behind her.

 

Seungwan still appears even when she hasn’t reached out at all, obeying Seungwan’s command. She sees her in her sleep, beside her when she studies, in class, at work - she doesn't mean to think about her.

 

But Seungwan's there even when she's not.

 

_(“The only person who could hurt me is you.”)_

 

Like now.

 

Irene pinches her eyes shut, pressing hard, hoping it's enough to squeeze images of Seungwan away. She hasn't had much sleep - not when studying helped her forget about Seungwan, preferring to avoid the dreams that were libraries for every encounter they've had.

 

But her heart's still pounding and frustration still coiling that it’s forming into a fist on her desk. It bothers her more than she’d like that she had done the one thing Seungwan had trusted her not to do.

 

Even if it was impossible to keep, they both still promised, anyway.

 

_(“But I would never—”_

 

_“I know. That's why I'm not worried. So you shouldn't be either, okay?”)_

 

Her exam questions don’t make sense.

 

A, A, D, C, D, B, E, A, D, D

 

She's reviewed the material countless times, already. Highlighted terms she couldn’t understand, made cue cards to test herself of definitions – she _knows_ all this.

 

_(“Friends kiss each other like this?”)_

 

But Seungwan won't leave her head.

 

_“Ten minutes left!”_

 

Irene grits her teeth, stares at black text against walls of white, her pencil drawing lazy circles around terms she's seen before but can't place. Her fingers dig into her scalp, raking her hand through her hair because at least this way, she can let out some tension without needing to huff her anger out loud.

 

She’s worked too hard to get into medical school; made it through cutthroat competition and overbearing expectations, took time to understand every page in every textbook.

 

Failure isn't an option.

 

C, D, E, A, A, B, C, C, D, C

 

Her pencil pauses at the edge of the bubble surrounding C, re-reads the question: _With lipid profile for patient X; total cholesterol = 649 mg/dL, HDL= 30 mg/dL, triglycerides= 850 mg/dL, your best course of action would be:_

 

It has to be C. She’s practiced this type of problem numerous times before. It’s not a surprise. She’s not supposed to be doubting herself like this – she got this. She got this. She got this.

 

_Damn it._

 

It has to be C.

 

She shades the bubble in, moves on to the next question, goes through the pages of notes still stuck in her head, and repeat.

 

By the end of the exam, Irene’s panting, hiding it behind a made-up smile and a small nod to the professor, handing in her paper and walking out; still struggling to ignore every faint touch along her skin, past kisses ghosting over her lips, a voice still filling up every space in her _head—_

 

_(“Kiss me like you mean it.”)_

 

Irene shuts her eyes, massaging her temple, a groan escaping her throat. She rests a hand to steady herself against the wall between posters of financial aid and a school band looking for new recruits.

 

Out of all the things she could think about – the results of her exam, the assignments due too soon, the meetings she still has to attend for today, her head aches from wondering if Seungwan knew that she meant every kiss.

 

Dragging her feet towards the student lounge, Irene plops onto the couch, sinking into the cushion; her backpack dropping to the floor with a thud.

 

She should be worried about getting robbed (no student is ever truly morally good, especially when no one's watching), but her eyes have already started drooping to a close.

 

Irene falls asleep to another dream filled with teasing smiles and the sweet scent of jasmine.

 

-

 

“You look like the dead, Joohyun unnie.”

 

Irene chuckles, slipping on her shoes. She needs to buy a few ingredients for dinner.

 

The day went by okay. Her nap did wonders for her, made her think a bit more clearly during each meeting, even if Seungwan's smile had stayed behind her eyes and jasmine still lingered in her lungs.

 

“I guess I won’t need to buy a Halloween costume, this time.”

 

“Haven't you been sleeping?”

 

It's a question she asks herself every day. As soon as she shuts her eyes, settles beneath her blankets, Seungwan pops up in her head and sleep becomes the last thing on her mind.

It doesn't help that during the day she has to keep up with school and work.

 

“Not really,” Irene fills her arms through her jacket’s sleeves, “But I'll manage.”

 

“You haven't seen Wendy lately, have you.”

 

Irene purses her lips. “No.”

 

Sooyoung sighs, hears her slump into the couch, the pop of a crisp bag of chips worming into her ears.

 

“Why not? Because it looks like you've been losing sleep thanks to her. And no, it doesn’t take a genius to figure _that_ out.”

 

Irene doesn't comment. Not when Sooyoung already knows the truth.

 

Sooyoung snorts. “God, I can't believe I'm saying this, but if it means making you look alive, then go settle whatever argument you two had and catch up on sleep. I don't need a zombie for a roommate.”

 

“I thought you like zombie movies,”

 

“I do,” Sooyoung munches on a chip, the muffled sound of cracks floating about. “But not when I need help paying the rent.”

 

As much as Sooyoung tries hard not to sound like she cares, that's all Irene hears.

She chuckles, turning the knob.

 

“Thanks, Sooyoung.”

 

Her muffled _love you too_ between crunching chips has Irene smiling into her jacket.

 

“Oh! By the way,” Irene pauses her steps, turning back just to find Sooyoung shuffling towards her with a bundle of paper, flipping through until it reaches a page that's creased and worn. “Does this person ring any bells?”

 

Irene arches a brow, leaning closer to look at pixels that make her eyes squint just to see. Besides the odd attire of a frilly dress, Irene recognizes her.

 

“That's Yeri. Or Yerim. That high schooler in the elevator, remember? Who made the weird noises.” She frowns, catching Sooyoung’s steady gaze remain on the picture. “She's apparently Seungwan's friend.”

 

“...Is that so,”

 

Irene can't tell if Sooyoung’s slow nodding and quiet hums are a good thing.

 

“Why?”

 

And just like that, Sooyoung bounces back to the sofa like she hadn't questioned her at all.

 

“Nothing. Now shoo. Go away.”

 

Irene sighs, shutting the door behind her and hopes that Sooyoung won't go through another bag of chips without it at least lasting a day.

 

Time to spend another night of retracing steps and visiting places she’s been to with Seungwan.

 

-

 

Wendy would like to think that her constant meetings with Joohyun are just a series of happy mistakes.

 

But she didn't think there'd come a time when Joohyun would be the last person she'd want to see. Even if it’s not true (she’s gotten used to lying to herself this week).

 

“What, are you stalking me now?” Wendy doesn't hold back her bite, flicking through apples. “Then again, I shouldn't be surprised.”

 

She had thrown herself into work, accepted more clients so that it'd drown out every call of her name. _Seungwan, Seungwan, Seungwan._

 

Of course it didn't help. But it wasn't like Wendy would ever settle for that, either.

 

“Seungwan…”

 

Wendy hates how the mere sound of her name rolls off Joohyun's tongue; it's too smooth, too familiar, too much. Her heart's already skipping in her chest, happiness wiggling its way across her lips.

 

She holds back the smile that had always been saved for Joohyun.

 

“I told you to leave me alone, didn't I?”

 

Joohyun settles next to her, too close that Wendy could feel her heat ease into her arm.

 

It's hard to pretend she doesn't feel Joohyun's stare.

 

“I know. That’s why I didn’t call,” Wendy distracts herself with an apple, ignores how Joohyun's close enough to inhale lavender. “But I just, I happened to be here. I wasn’t - I mean, I was _hoping_ to see you, I just didn’t think I was actually _going_ to, but…” Joohyun's dancing fingers against the edges of an apple, a nervous habit that charms Wendy more than she'd like. “...still, I want to talk to you. Is that okay?”

 

When Joohyun talks like this, it leaves her knees feeling like jelly and her heart dashing off as if it could run any further.

 

Wendy sighs. “...It's hard to stay mad at you when you're like this.”

 

“...That's good, right?”

 

She chuckles, turning her head to spot Joohyun's confusion written on her face. Wendy presses a finger between her brows, setting it back to smooth skin.

 

“Yeah,” she ignores the tingling beneath her fingertip, choosing not to linger any longer than necessary. “Yeah, it is.”

 

But Joohyun's warmth stays even when she hides her hands behind her; as far away as possible from the one person who could burn her deeper than any fire.

 

“...I'm sorry,” Joohyun pauses, “about the envelopes. I just - I want to help. I'm just wasting your time when you could have someone else who pays for—”

 

“You’re not wasting my time,”

 

If anything, she was wasting her own for accepting every appointment that isn't for anyone else but herself.

 

“...Still,” Joohyun's combing her hair back, eyes too focused on her. “I'm sorry.”

 

When she looks at her - _properly_ looks, Wendy sees dark circles beneath soft pair of brown and hair speckled with strands all over the place. Even when Joohyun looks haggard from head to toe, she still manages to yank in her heart, have it speed up like it was enamored with every messy piece of her.

 

Wendy’s hands reach up to straighten out the wrinkles on Joohyun’s button-up. Odd. As much as she was worried for Joohyun’s current well-being, she’s just as amused; a ragged Joohyun’s kind of hot.

 

“You look like a tornado had spat you out.”

 

Joohyun laughs, her voice sounding tired but light - Wendy has a feeling it’s not something she’s done in a while. It tugs her chest a little more; wondering what's been happening in her life to get her like this. Joohyun's always been put together.

 

“You have no idea,”

 

Wendy can’t read her eyes; not when they look at her like this - a little more vulnerable, a little more something than the usual nothing. It has Wendy choking on hope she had sworn she'd buried too deep to feel again.

 

She turns away, dumping an apple into the plastic bag, fluttering fingers across various red for another one.

 

Joohyun sounds too much like she has her heart out in the open. Wendy doesn't know what to do with it - not when she's so used to chasing after an honest tongue, hear at least one peek that she means something to Joohyun, too.

 

Joohyun wrings her hands. “...So, um. Friends?”

 

Wendy smiles, tucking auburn behind her ear. At least there's a clearer line being drawn. And it’s better than what they’ve been this entire week.

 

“Yeah. Friends.”

 

She drops two more apples into her bag, twisting around to scour for bananas. Joohyun’s still beside her, a silent shadow that brings her more comfort than any words. She really didn’t expect to see her; and from Joohyun’s haggard appearance, she didn’t, either.

 

Sometimes, Wendy wonders if fate actually exists.

 

“...You know,” she starts, nudging Joohyun's elbow; gain the attention she can't get enough of - even when she already has it. “I don't really expect to bump into a client when I live out my private life.”

 

Joohyun wears a curious smile, confusion looped across her mouth, the arch of her brow dazzling her every time; she makes her feel warmer than the blankets Wendy tends to sink herself into at night.

 

“The worst part is, I want you in it.” Wendy feels her ears burn up at Joohyun's growing smile, pearly whites peeking between her lips. “...And that complicates things.”

 

Wendy fiddles with the ends of the plastic bags, not sure why she even bothered to speak about things too close to her heart (maybe because it sounded like Joohyun did, too), but it’s out; words floating about in the air for Joohyun to catch and take in and—

 

“Then I guess we’ll just be complicated together.”

 

Joohyun always speaks like it’s that simple.

 

Her words tend to knock Wendy off her feet, tackle her down, kiss her hard so her lips would bruise and lungs would empty of everything but the phantom breaths Joohyun takes, lingering even when it never happens.

 

Wendy should be used to getting stricken with emotions too many to count, never having enough arms to hold them in.

 

 _God,_ if only Joohyun would actually do what her words have already done to her - again and again and _again._

 

“Monday at five,” Wendy starts, slinking a bundle of bananas into her bag. “Pick me up on Monday at five. I’ve got three clients lined up for that evening. Of course, only if you’re free. Otherwise, don’t bother.”

 

Joohyun’s smile is brighter, nodding. “See you Monday, then.”

 

She wants to kiss her.

 

Wendy pretends it’s nothing special, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder when all she wants to do is jump and twirl and maybe hug Joohyun a little, too. Even do a bit more than that.

 

Another promise. Wendy wonders if Joohyun will ever get sick of making them.

 

-

 

Monday comes too soon; Irene’s still not prepared for it.

 

“I'm not worried about you,” Irene says, mumbling through lobby doors; she shouldn’t be surprised it’s another five-star hotel. “Seriously. I’m not worried, Seungwan.”

 

Seungwan gives her a look.

 

Irene rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. Maybe a _little,_ ” she pauses, listening to Seungwan’s heels click in step with her towards the reception desk. “But I know you can handle yourself.”

 

Seungwan's rubbing her wrist as if it'd help erase the tremor in her limbs. It does. Sort of. Not when she can still see patches of bruises and bite marks on Seungwan's skin, masked by makeup that could fool anyone who doesn't see anything else but a pretty face.

 

She hasn't asked Seungwan about it. She doesn't have to; she already knows the answer.

 

Disappointment doesn’t describe what she feels every time she thinks about it.

 

When Seungwan states her business, receiving a warm _good evening_ along with the room number and key, Irene catches the familiarity and knowing eyes plastered on the receptionist’s face. Just like any other night for them, she thinks.

 

“Relax, it's only a client. We'll just be chatting, play a few games, maybe even have sex; nothing you don't already know, okay?” Seungwan starts exactly where they left off, ushering her to the set of chairs in the lobby. “Or nothing happens at all. They might just end up crying their eyes out about an ex or something.”

 

Funny how it's _her_ she's trying to help relax when she isn't even the one who'll be working.

 

It’s suffocating to watch Seungwan wave, smile and say _I’ll be back,_ how she grows smaller the more distance she makes; the click clacks of her heels echoing after her, fading until there’s nothing left to hear but the murmur of strangers passing by.

 

She can’t study; her books stay nestled in her bag, wringing her hands together, her foot tapping to a nervous rhythm in her head. She can’t stop staring at her watch.

 

When an hour passes, relief washes over her chest at the smile on Seungwan’s lips as soon as their eyes meet, the elevator doors closing behind her – the clacks of her heels gradually ringing louder.

 

Irene would be lying if she said she didn’t care about the slight unkempt touch on Wendy’s hair, the bits of wrinkles on her dress, the light tinges of pink peppered on her neck – but she could learn to get used to this.

 

As long as Seungwan comes back to her.

 

“Ready to go?” Irene rises from her seat, taking Seungwan’s hand as soon as she’s close enough to hold; her nerves fade away when their fingers fill up the spaces together. “The next one is just a few blocks down, right?”

 

Seungwan nods, pressing against her side. “You learn fast,”

 

If only she knew how much she fidgeted, paced around, bit her lip – it was horrible.

 

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m a quick learner.”

 

There’s a hand on her stomach before it starts trekking down, fingers flicking the edges of her belt, fiddling with the strap as if to unbuckle it.

 

Seungwan’s breath tickles her ear. “I hope that stays true in the bedroom, too.”

 

Irene nearly trips through the double glass doors if not for Seungwan’s grip to steady her, hearing her giggles melt into her ears, along with the heat of her phantom breath still lingering on her skin.

 

The one thing Irene hopes she’ll never get used to is Seungwan’s teasing, especially if it means listening to Seungwan’s laughter like this over and over again - unbridled and happy.

 

-

 

Wendy knew there'd be problems with having Joohyun tag along.

 

She just didn't think it'd be anything like _this._

 

It’s the third night Joohyun accompanies her; it isn’t hard to notice that Joohyun’s getting used to how things work. She’s not jumpy anymore, gaze no longer darting around as if to scan every individual that enters the building, memorize them on a list like her brain was a spreadsheet.

 

Joohyun’s more relaxed and that’s a good thing.

 

Just not when it charms strangers in, as if they were enamored by her calm silence.

 

For one, her clients - male and female, both tend to flock towards Joohyun if they happen to ever catch her present. Usually she'd be lounging on the sofa, studying up on whatever subjects she'd cover for the day, and naturally it wouldn't bother Wendy. She would spend those moments freshening up in the restroom, anyway - preparing for work.

 

But when she leaves to head to a designated room for the night, if a client isn't already waiting for her upstairs, they'd usually be ogling Joohyun. Or even worse. Talking to her.

 

She knows how they look at Joohyun; it's like looking at a bunch of mirrors: entranced, with a bit of silly naïve love at first sight - and Wendy just wants them all gone.

 

“Is there anything else? Because I'd like to be alone, now.”

 

Rejection has never sounded as beautiful as when they're leaving Joohyun's mouth.

 

It sounds like the end to a conversation that's been dragged on for too long, watching behind a pillar of plants as a woman shakes her head, waves her hands like it'd ease the awkward tension floating in the air.

 

Wendy already feels herself smiling at the way Joohyun goes back to writing in her notebook – as if she didn't just draw in the attention of a young millionaire Wendy had serviced three weeks back.

 

“You're looking busy,” she says, heels clicking closer, bending to see what Joohyun has written for today. “You’ll get wrinkles if you keep scrunching your face up like that.”

 

Joohyun grunts, not once looking up from her paper. “I didn't understand most of the lecture today, so I need to go over it again.”

 

The best part about all these suitors striking up a conversation with Joohyun is that she never considers them important enough to mention. Always, her lips stay flippant, disregarding any stranger entirely like they never approached her at all.

 

Wendy's still a little jealous, though. What if all it takes is one new face with too many similarities and hobbies to share with Joohyun?

 

“You won't look at anyone else, right?”

 

The words jump out faster than she could bite her tongue down, dropping her gaze back to the notes in Joohyun's hands instead of meeting a stare that's melting her forehead.

 

“What?” Joohyun's stopped writing numbers for an equation Wendy's never had to solve, “What do you mean?”

 

Too late to take it back, now.

 

“I’ve seen a few people come up to you,” Wendy’s tangling her fingers between auburn, allow waves to cascade over her shoulder. “They look nice.”

 

Annoying how nerves have crawled up her throat, render her speech to curt statements as if she wasn't eloquent with words.

 

“I wouldn't know. I don't entertain them longer than I have to. I'm busy.”

 

“Too busy even for me?”

 

“No,” Joohyun tilts her head, her frown looking too kissable to miss. “Or else I wouldn't be here.”

 

_Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her._

 

Wendy ignores all the noises in her head, pushing Joohyun's forehead with her finger that has her yelping backwards into the cushion, settling for hearing a confused _what was that for?_ over a more intimate confrontation she isn't prepared to face just yet.

 

God, where did all her bravado go?

 

“Save that for the bedroom, Hyunnie.” She straightens up, stretching out the few wrinkles in her dress, glancing at her phone. “I have to get going. We’ll talk more, later. Okay?”

 

Warmth is circling her wrist, dragging her down, before a touch too soft grazes her skin, lingering there.

 

Joohyun's words melt into her cheek. “Girlfriend Experience, right? I'll see you soon.”

 

Wendy swears that Joohyun could probably feel the heat along her body, smoke practically seeping off her skin - her cheeks are aflame, no doubt stained with a blush too deep like red paint.

 

“O-Oh, um, yes. That's right.” She stumbles back a little, attempt to regain her balance; both in her heart that's beating too fast and in her feet, heels clacking too loud. “I - um, I just - I should go.”

 

Joohyun's chuckles only burns her ears, more. “You should.”

 

But all Wendy wants to do is turn back, lunge straight for a teasing smile she knows is plastered across Joohyun's lips, and kiss her hard until they're nothing but skin and sounds that should only be reserved for the bedroom.

 

Wendy shoves every temptation down, focusing on the clicks of her heels and hopes that her client won't come out too exhausted after tonight's session to still pay.

 

She's going to need a good workout to drown out every fire blazing her skin.

 

-

 

It's Friday, again.

 

She's lost count how many they've shared - but it doesn't matter when it's something Wendy wants, again and again. Make it _countless._

 

Wendy wears Joohyun's gifted button-up on their next scheduled appointment.

 

She doesn't miss the way Joohyun's brow rises to question, no doubt the curiosity eager to escape from pursed lips as soon as she walks through the door.

 

Wendy starts it off with a smile; hopes that it doesn't show how nervous she is for wearing her heart out in the open.

 

“You expected me to wear this, before.” Wendy flutters fingers through her hair, allows tresses to cascade over her back; show off the denim shirt she'll never stop loving. “I figured it was about time I wore it to one of our dates. You know, not have it restricted to just a bedtime blanket.”

 

She watches pale cheeks turn a savory pink, feels her own stomach churn at Joohyun's shifty eyes; her embarrassment is too easy to see.

 

It's nice that she isn't the only one feeling shy with her open diary.

 

“You don't need to tell me what you wear to bed, Seungwan.”

 

“I think I do, actually.” Wendy's quick to correct her, twirling a finger around auburn, shifting her weight on one leg. “Considering it sounds like you're still not getting the hint. I can't sleep without it. What do you think that means?”

 

“That you just like the shirt that much.”

 

Wendy blinks. Well. She's not wrong.

 

“That wasn't really what I was getting at.”

 

Joohyun settles for shrugging, leaning against the armrest of the sofa, her temple resting against her knuckles. The television is playing one of Yerim’s favorite cooking shows; a hum of words and noises that don’t catch her attention as well as Joohyun does.

 

Wendy scoots a little closer.

 

“You okay, there?” She frowns, watching Joohyun nod, her eyelids drooping like she can’t keep them open.

 

“...Yeah,”

 

A yawn is all it takes for Wendy to tap her shoulder, grab the initiative to be even closer. She isn’t blind to see that Joohyun still looks exhausted. Not as haggard compared to when they bumped into each other at the grocery store, but enough.

 

She pats her thighs. “Lie down,”

 

“…Why?”

 

“Because you look like the dead,”

 

Joohyun snorts. “Haven’t heard _that_ one, before.”

 

Wendy pats her legs again. “Come on. I promise I’m comfy.”

 

Hesitation is obvious across Joohyun's eyes, present like they're contact lenses, before Wendy nudges her elbow, encourages her again with a smile.

 

Joohyun's moving, strands of ebony pooling over her lap, the warm weight of her head sinking onto her thighs; Wendy finds herself relaxing - there's a certain trust, in place.

 

She threads her fingers through Joohyun's hair, watching her eyelids fall shut.

 

“...You're still seeing him,”

 

Her hand pauses just above Joohyun's brow, meeting eyes that are flecked with brown and something else.

 

Wendy doesn't have to think to know whom she's referring to.

 

She watches Joohyun's eyes scan the splotches of purple-blue on the skin along her neck, knows that there are plenty more beneath her shirt; but it's not something Joohyun would go far to inspect.

 

Wendy resumes combing her fingers through silky tresses. “I was wondering when you'd bring it up,”

 

Joohyun's lips curve upside down. “Is he that important to keep?”

 

“Not really,”

 

“Then why?”

 

“Because I'm his favorite,” Wendy smiles at brows furrowed and forehead wrinkled. “And when you're somebody's favorite, you can get away with almost anything.”

 

The Biter's too much of a show-off for Wendy to feel bad about milking him dry of his money. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with that, either.

 

“What do you get away with?”

 

She chuckles, pressing a thumb between Joohyun's brows, ease the wrinkles that are getting too used to being there.

 

“Four times more than my asking price,” Wendy laughs at Joohyun's wide eyes, “sometimes when it goes really well, it’s six or seven.”

 

Joohyun murmurs _that makes sense,_ shutting her eyes like that was the end of their conversation. Wendy likes raking her fingers through her scalp, listening to Joohyun hum, content.

 

Wendy could imagine her purring if she were a cat.

 

“…Your eyes are pretty.”

 

Her hand pauses again.

 

She wasn't expecting to hear a compliment; not when Joohyun looked like she was about to fall asleep, her eyes now open as if to watch her.

 

Joohyun stated it like it was a fact. She isn't wrong, of course, because they are; Wendy's seen them in the mirror to know it’s true. She just didn't think she'd hear it from Joohyun.

 

“Because there are stars in my eyes?” Wendy flutters her eyelids, exaggerate to garner a reaction – possibly fish out another compliment. “Maybe even galaxies and the universe?”

 

She's heard similar lines too often to keep track of, so it never does anything more than give her goosebumps. She could imagine Joohyun rolling her eyes even when she isn't – or at least, Wendy can feel her own, eager to tumble around in their sockets; it never gets any less greasier.

 

“No.” Joohyun pinches the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips. “No galaxies or universes, either. I'm not an astronomist, Seungwan.”

 

Wendy giggles, kneading Joohyun's temple. She hears her sigh, feeling affection well up her chest for something as mundane as making Joohyun relaxed.

 

She pretends the incessant _kiss her, kiss her, kiss her,_ isn't ringing through her head, again.

 

Wendy settles for staring at Joohyun’s small smile. “...Thanks.”

 

Endearment swallows her entire heart when Joohyun turns to her side, pressing closer to her stomach, nuzzling her shirt.

 

It’s muffled. “You're welcome.”

 

Wendy tucks ebony behind her ear, tracing the slopes of the outer shell. It’s a quieter Friday, not too far off from their casual conversations and playful banter. It’s just as nice; and sweeter – and softer.

 

She doesn’t know how long it takes for Joohyun to fall asleep, but she knows it’s some time between drawing circles on the lobe of her ear and catching herself leaning forward for a kiss Joohyun won’t see coming.

 

She jumps at the vibration in her pocket, hurrying to wrench it out. She breathes out slowly, thankful that Joohyun doesn’t stir.

 

_(Another private auction is scheduled on the 27th. The same setup as last time. Let me know if you're interested. I'm still good with our original arrangements.)_

Sender: The Gentleman

Sent: 7:55:02 PM

Sent: 01/12/18

 

Another one. It’s been awhile.

 

Maybe this time, they’ll be there.

 

Wendy texts him back to let him know she’s in; the opportunity is scarce, but it’s always worth a try.

 

As unlikely as it was for Yerim's sisters to be present, Wendy won’t miss out on the possibility. There’s still a chance; she’ll always take it.

 

Even if Yerim has already given up looking.

 

-

 

There are a few reasons why female clients are better than their male counterparts.

 

There’s the obvious: softer to touch, to listen to, to look at, to smell - even taste. But as of late, there’s only one reason that's most important; it's easier to imagine Joohyun.

 

“I had fun, tonight.”

 

She smells of lilac and strawberry shortcake, scents too far from vanilla and lavender that it was the only thing that made it difficult to keep Joohyun in her head.

 

Wendy smiles, polite, looping her arms through her fur coat.

 

“Me too.”

 

She can't recall her name - if she's ever mentioned it at all, when Joohyun's the one she still sees; even if the attire is far from what she'd wear, low cut dress and most skin bared.

 

“Let's do this again, sometime.”

 

Wendy plays her part, blushes and fidgets and says _yes,_ lets fingers brush her hair, takes a kiss filled with nothing on her lips, and leaves with cash enough to pay for more than just four custom-made dresses.

 

Who would've thought the daughter of the former president would hire an escort for company and a little something more?

 

It takes eleven floors down and seven steps from the elevator before Joohyun's voice sweeps into her head.

 

“Ready to go?”

 

It's a phrase she hears more often than the usual _See you Friday, Seungwan_ and it's not so bad. She thought she'd miss it more than this, but maybe it's because she sees Joohyun on other days, too.

 

Joohyun's made up of eyes that smile and lips that speak comfort better than any ice cream, her touch warm against Wendy's elbow.

 

It hasn't been a particularly hard day. She isn't even tired. If anything, it's one of her best. The money's good, the people were pleased, her services were exceptional - as they always have been, and she's got enough energy to accept another client.

 

But all she feels like doing is relaxing in clothes she's learned to love and company she wants to stay with.

 

Wendy leans into her side, rests against a pillar she hadn't been looking for, as if exhausted doing all the things she’s good at.

 

“...Hey, Joohyun?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Wendy nuzzles Joohyun's shoulder, pressing a kiss too light so Joohyun can’t tell, thinking of lazy mornings and sleepy nights they've shared together.

 

That's all she wants, lately.

 

“...Take me home.”

 

-

 

They feel like friends.

 

Laughing together, driving together, spending time together. Wendy wouldn't have been surprised if in another life, they ended up as best friends.

 

She'd probably still fall in love with her, too.

 

“W-Wha—” Joohyun looks like she doesn’t know what to do, head twisting back and forth as if her neck could handle all the turns. “Why are you _stripping?_ ”

 

Wendy snorts, steadying herself in the backseat, a smile tickling the corners of her lips.

 

“The better question is: why do you keep looking? Shouldn’t your eyes be focused on the road?”

 

Joohyun's never glared at her - not like this, chilling as if it were absolute zero. Yet all Wendy feels is trembling heat licking at her skin, the warmest she's been since their time in a taxi.

 

God what she wouldn't give to have that memory play on repeat; preferably in reality.

 

“I have to check the mirrors because I'm _driving._ ”

 

Wendy blinks away another wish she's made for hotter skin and insatiable lips, managing to understand Joohyun amidst the images of hot breaths and scathing tongues.

 

She swallows so her throat isn't dry, letting out a quiet breath because _damn it,_ she’s turned on already.

 

“You don't need to check them all the time,” Wendy’s half-way through her dress’ zipper, the sliver of skin along her back just enough to leave a little bit of imagination. Not that Joohyun needed it - she doesn't really look (maybe _now_ she will). “But I mean, if you want to, I won't mind. I _am_ quite the view, after all.”

 

Her skin is sizzling; as if to boil and evaporate; god, it's hot in here, even with the AC on.

 

Joohyun scoffs. “No, you're distracting.”

 

“Thank you,”

 

“That wasn't a compliment.”

 

“That just means you're still looking.” Wendy grins, winking at her through the rear-view mirror. “I can't help how I make you feel.”

 

Rolling eyes and a heavy sigh are expected, giggling when Joohyun returns her gaze towards the road. By the way her fingers grip the steering wheel, too tight that her skin’s painted white, it isn't hard to figure out that Joohyun's struggling with _something._

 

She doesn’t know what it is, not precisely, but she wants Joohyun to suffer a bit more for how easily she makes her just _feel._

 

Her zipper drags down to the bottom of her back, her dress drooping over her shoulders, eager to slip lower if not for her free hand keeping her modest.

 

Wendy chances a glance at the rear-view mirror and smiles when she meets Joohyun's gaze.

 

“Hi,” she swallows a chuckle at Joohyun's shifty gaze, how it darts back to the road like she hadn't just been caught staring.

 

Joohyun clears her throat. “...Hi.”

 

God, Joohyun's such a cutie.

 

Wendy plucks her favorite button-up and a pair of jeans out of her bag to slip into.

 

“Why are you changing, by the way?” Joohyun's eyes are back on her, before flicking towards the streets. “Can't you just change when you get home?”

 

Wendy smiles, more honest than any of the polished she's given to every client.

 

“Because,” Wendy wonders if she should go with the truth, “it’s my home with Yerim.”

 

“Yerim? That Yeri, kid?”

 

“Yeah,” she combs her hair back, “the one who calls you Oldie,”

 

Wendy snickers, forgets that she's keeping herself modest until air breezes past her shoulders, seeps across her chest, and the car jitters into another lane - several honks ringing into her ears.

 

Laughter echoes throughout the car, unrestrained and embarrassing, even if Wendy's now lying on her side across the backseat, legs sprawled against the window, lazily scrambling to keep her sagging dress cover the private parts they both share (but somehow Joohyun's too embarrassed to see).

 

 _Oops._ Didn't mean to flash Joohyun. But at least her wobbly driving meant that Joohyun was looking.

 

“S-Seungwan!” Joohyun's fingers clutch the wheel like there's no more blood in her hands, eyes glued back on the road, cheeks smothered in red. “You can't just – we almost got into an accident!”

 

Wendy wipes tears, sighing out bits of giggles still trickling through her throat.

 

“But we didn't, did we?”

 

“ _Almost_ ,”

 

“Good thing for almost,” Wendy turns to lay on her back, sweeping auburn off her forehead, knows that she's more skin than clothes. She won't apologize for it. “Need to spice up your life a bit with a few almosts, Hyunnie. Girlfriend Experience, remember?”

 

Joohyun's sighing, watching her rub her temple like a headache has come on.

 

“Just – whatever. Go change.”

 

Excitement cools down from Wendy's limbs, feels her skin return to a comfortable warmth than the scorching hot it had been swallowed in.

 

She lies there, watching city lights pass through the window, listening to the calm whir of the engine and the soft melody of music too new for her to know. Wendy soaks up the image of Joohyun focused on driving, the vice grip on her steering wheel gone, how ebony loops over her ear; just the _entirety_ of her – how deep her presence has made a hole in Wendy's heart.

 

Only Joohyun could make her feel both filled and empty at the same time.

 

“...Sorry,” Wendy reaches out, taps fingers against Joohyun's elbow on the armrest. _One, two, three._

 

“For what?”

 

 _Four, five, six._ “For almost getting us into an accident,”

 

Joohyun's free hand pats at Wendy's knuckles, stops her fingers from counting any more numbers.

 

“Like you said; I need a few almosts, right?”

 

She could always count on Joohyun to make her feel better about anything.

 

Wendy feels like kissing her. _Again_. “...Right,”

 

She sits back up, clutching her dress, ponders whether it'd be a good idea to listen to the rampage in her chest and the repetitive thoughts in her head of just _kiss her, kiss her, kiss her._

 

“You okay, Seungwan?”

 

All she has to do is reach over, turn Joohyun's head, lunge for lips she still can't get enough of—

 

Joohyun's gaze through the mirror swallows every thought in her head, leaving her with just a heart that doesn't beat any slower and blood pumping into her legs and fingers to _move_. Even her ears begin to throb with heat.

 

Wendy licks her lips, turning away and grasping the ends of the shirt.

 

“Yeah, just, you know, thinking. About work.”

 

Joohyun hums, though Wendy wants to tell her it's nothing like that at all. Maybe it _is_ kind of related to work, even if she's not taking Joohyun's money.

 

Wendy curls her hair back, biting her lip. Whatever. She can handle a noisy heart and an even noisier head for a little while longer.

 

“For our own safety, don't look.”

 

She slips off her dress for the button-up and denim jeans, knowing full well that Joohyun obeys better than any other client.

 

Wendy ignores the constant throbbing in her head of words that come back to haunt her as soon as she's settled back in her seat, fiddling with her amethyst earring. She hopes it stops by the time she gets home; she can’t appear distracted when Yerim’s too sharp for mistakes.

 

“Is this the place?”

 

Joohyun stops in front of her house; a simple two-storey colored in baby blue and white linings; cozier and modest compared to her modern apartment.

 

Wendy says _yes_ to Joohyun's question and not the mess still loitering about in her head.

 

_Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her._

 

It's smarter not to prolong Joohyun's stay, tell her to leave and see her whenever. Especially when her mind is still stuck on repeat of lips too kissable and thoughts insatiable.

 

But her mouth is as loud as her heart and Wendy can't take it anymore.

 

She tastes vanilla, feels it melt on her tongue, lips too soft that Wendy can't believe it's a kiss until she's pulling away, breathing lavender in.

 

But she doesn't remember lunging forward - she doesn't remember leaning in to taste Joohyun's smile; she doesn't remember even _moving_.

 

“...Friends don't kiss each other like this,” Joohyun's shifting back, settling into her seat, clarifying more than just their relationship status. So it was Joohyun. “...I just wanted to let you know that.”

 

Wendy's already leaning in for another kiss.

 

Despite the driver’s seat making it difficult to reach Joohyun, she's still moving forward, close enough to yank Joohyun in by the collar. She’s licking her lips, about to taste what she's come to dream of again and again and _again—_

 

Screw almosts. She wants Joohyun _now_.

 

“...Take me to my apartment.” Wendy says before they’re crashing back together, vanilla still tasting as sweet as the first time. And the second – even the _third_.

 

It’s spontaneous. Yerim won’t mind her not coming home. Probably. She’ll give a censored explanation, tomorrow. But right now, all she wants is to stay in this bubble of heated kisses and lust-filled stares and fiery touches only Joohyun could burn her with.

 

Joohyun’s rubbing her thumb against the back of Wendy’s ear, her fingers behind her neck steadying their lips together.

 

“...Okay.” Joohyun’s breathless, but it’s not enough – Wendy wants _more._

 

Wendy pulls away after the fifth kiss, maybe sixth, she can’t remember anymore, so Joohyun could focus back on the road. She’s sinking into the cushion as the car turns around the corner, leaving behind her home with Yerim. There was no way she’d let Yerim see her like this; jittery and needy and horny.

 

She tries not to squirm. It’s hard to ignore the heat pooling between her legs.

 

Her heart is still hammering hard against her chest, just as loud as the engine roaring, the speed on Joohyun’s dashboard gradually increasing, fists curled on the wheel.

 

Looks like she isn't the only one bothered like this.

 

And to think Joohyun's eyes had looked at her like _that._ Wendy didn’t think she’d actually get to see it again; she thought their moment in the taxi was all they would ever have.

 

Wendy curls fists in her lap. She wants to dive in for vanilla lips, already.

 

-

 

Of course she’d end up fumbling through her keys.

 

She feels like a wreck and that’s insane when they haven’t even really done anything, yet. Her nerves tremor through her limbs, anticipation so palpable it’s distracting - and prolonging a dream that’s about to become reality.

 

It doesn't help that she could feel Joohyun breathe, tickling ear, lips grazing warmth against her neck; it’s too light to be a lingering kiss but close enough to make out the curves of a smile on her skin.

 

Now if she could just keep her fingers steady long enough to fit the _knob—_

 

Joohyun’s hands come up beneath her arms, holding her wrists, easing the quake in her limbs.

 

Wendy takes in a breath – two, then three. It doesn’t really work when Joohyun’s mouth presses deeper against her skin.

 

“...You’re not helping,” she manages to let out, biting back a moan when Joohyun slithers a hand under her shirt, fingers tracing ember on her stomach.

 

“I am,” Joohyun’s burning circles, now. “You’re just not paying attention.”

 

God, if she knew Joohyun was such a sly tease, she wouldn’t have been as impatient to wait it out a little longer. At least then, it would prolong the inevitable.

 

It takes five more shoves before the key sticks, twisting the knob open and pushing the door, stumbling in on wobbly legs and a back filled with Joohyun.

 

Wendy staggers to kick off her heels, laughing when Joohyun grunts to grip her steady, slumping to lean against Joohyun, memorize the brief flash of worry in her eyes. It warms her heart every time.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just,” Wendy ushers her with a nod of her head towards the couch, giggles tapering to a smile. “Heels aren’t usually that hard to take off.”

 

“I think you’re just uncoordinated,”

 

Wendy rolls her eyes, pretends she’s offended and shoving Joohyun against the leather seats, straddling her like all the times they’ve shared together - her personal favorites.

 

Wendy fiddles with her own shirt, tugging at the first button. “And to think I thought you were nice,”

 

Joohyun scoffs, attempting to get up, but Wendy presses fingers down her shoulders, lets her know that there was no way she was going to move anywhere else unless she _lets_ her.

 

Wendy wants to remind Joohyun exactly why they’re here, leaning in, makes sure her body sinks closer into Joohyun.

 

“...You're not going to make me unbutton all of these for you, are you?”

 

She's nibbling words against Joohyun's ear, shifting so she's still stable on Joohyun's lap, her fingers scraping across the circles on her favorite shirt.

 

Joohyun swallows, her voice parting from stiff lips.

 

“...Of course not,” Joohyun says, muttering beneath her breath, “...I just never thought I'd be lending you shirts to wear only so I would take it off of you, later.”

 

Wendy grins, feeling both giddy and coy as Joohyun's hands come up for the buttons. It’s hard not to notice her fingers trembling.

 

Wendy winks. “You'll get used to it,”

 

Joohyun is chuckling, and the sound makes Wendy's heart soar even higher, attempting to tumble out of her chest.

 

Excitement starts to thrum through her veins, watching Joohyun unclasp the circles off, slow like she was taking her time.

 

Wendy can't help but count the buttons down in her head.

 

_Five,_

 

“...All those times I drank tea with you, it was because I was nervous.” Joohyun says, statement so simple like it was too obvious to even tell.

 

Wendy pretends she isn't flustered at the spontaneous truth, ignoring the warmth seeping up her neck. She feels it spread across her cheeks, worming its way up her ears.

 

_Four,_

 

“And then?”

 

“Then…” her fingers stop, gaze filled with something more than just carnal lust. “...One day I didn’t need it, anymore.”

 

Joohyun speaks with her heart so open that Wendy can't bring herself to make fun of her.

_Three,_

 

“I was terrified, at first.” Joohyun pauses, chuckles leaving her lips. “I didn't know what to expect; I never met an escort until you.”

_Two,_

 

Wendy can feel her navy blue bra peek through, the slight breeze of air seeping into her skin. But it doesn't make chills trickle her spin like the tiny smile cradling Joohyun's mouth.

 

“But then I realized that you had more reasons to be afraid, so I wanted to make sure you'd never feel that way.”

 

_One,_

 

Joohyun's gaze flickers up at her, away from the buttons she had been so focused on, concern etched into them like it was their color.

 

“...Did you ever feel that way?”

 

Wendy kisses her.

 

Something's surged up in her chest, hotter than any desire and softer than any lust. There's a certain need to tell Joohyun _no, I’m never scared when I’m with you_ – but she reassures her the only way she knows how.

 

So she kisses Joohyun harder, hopes the message gets across that she's never wronged her, swallowing Joohyun's moans when her fingers trickle down her stomach, Joohyun's button-up wrinkling beneath her skin.

 

Wendy sucks in a breath at the touch of Joohyun's hand wandering along her hips, smooth fingers tracing lower until they're dancing down her thigh, fondling up denim, fiddling with the button.

 

Even with pants on, she feels every single zig-zag and circles and lines Joohyun strokes against her center.

 

 _Damn it,_ she shouldn't have chosen skinny jeans. They might as well come off.

 

Wendy groans against smiling lips, feels Joohyun laugh as if she knew that, too.

 

“...You're having way too much fun with this, Joohyun.”

 

“I am,” Joohyun's fingers press deeper into where she's warmest, “...aren't _you_?”

 

Wendy doesn't answer her, but her panting breaths and trembling thighs are more than enough, she's sure.

 

Any longer and her arousal will seep through, soak up her precious white-washed jeans – even if it's a poor shield against steady fingers. God, how embarrassing it is to be putty so quickly from Joohyun’s wandering fingers.

 

Her stomach twists, need blistering up her lungs, rasping for more than just a teasing touch.

 

Wendy huffs. “...You sure know how to use your hand.”

 

Joohyun hums, kissing her like she isn’t popping the button off her jeans, dragging her zipper down, making Wendy hold her breath.

 

Wendy curses, jolting from the friction of Joohyun's hand against her underwear, the poor material no doubt already drenched under the arousal.

 

It's hard to focus on Joohyun’s lips when her fingers are stroking her center, crawling back up, before pressing down on the bundle of nerves. Even when she’s still clothed, her underwear shields nothing. Wendy twitches from each teasing flick, buckling forward, trying to catch her breath against Joohyun's smile.

 

Joohyun rubs their noses together. “...You’re wet,”

 

Wendy scoffs, squeezing out a grin between heaving breaths, tucking ebony behind Joohyun’s ear.

 

“I was wet last time, too. Remember?”

 

She coos at the blush dusting Joohyun’s cheeks, pink and bright.

 

“Oh, um, right.” Joohyun’s gaze darts everywhere else but at her, “...I’m sorry.”

 

Wendy tugs at the first button on Joohyun’s shirt, unlooping it open.

 

“As long as I’m not drying myself, again.” She lifts Joohyun’s chin, forces her to meet her eyes. “I have you, now; don’t I.”

 

It’s not a question, not when she doesn’t wait for Joohyun to respond, dragging her fingers down the column of buttons, unlatching even the one on her jeans so they’re matching. All that’s left is undoing the zipper.

 

But then lips dive for her neck and fingers prod deeper against her underwear that Wendy forgets, arching to give as much space as she can, aching for Joohyun's touch to dig, quell the want boiling in her stomach. Wendy's hips move, attempting to rock against Joohyun's fingers.

 

Her stupid La Perla lace underwear is in the way.

 

Wendy groans, impatient. “Just touch me already,”

 

She grabs Joohyun's wrist, guiding her across the waistband of her underwear, encouraging her to slip inside, chills shooting through her spine at the feel of Joohyun's fingers curling over the string.

 

But then Joohyun's pulling back, lips scrawling against the skin on Wendy’s shoulder, her shirt falling to drape over her elbow. Wendy bites back a whine.

 

“Is this why you made me carry you? To practice for when it really matters?”

 

Wendy has an idea of what she's talking about but she still can't help but ask, pretending she’s forgotten.

 

She’s panting against Joohyun’s neck. “...Care to remind me?”

 

Joohyun shifts back to kiss her again, nibbling on Wendy's bottom lip, her fingers slipping away from her thighs to hold her closer.

 

“Don't let go,”

 

Just as the words leave Joohyun's mouth, phantom heat lingering on her lips, they're jolting up from the couch, her legs wrapping to steady herself against Joohyun, her squeak muffled by Joohyun’s grin.

 

“You better not drop me on the floor,”

 

“If we get to the bed fast enough without my knees breaking under your weight,” Wendy pinches Joohyun's nose out of playful spite, chuckling at the puffs of breaths Joohyun heaves with each wobbly step. “Then we won't have to worry about that.”

 

Wendy buries her face against Joohyun’s silk tresses, tangling her fingers between locks of ebony. Lavender enters her lungs, arousing her more than she already was.

 

“Take a break at the kitchen table,” she hears Joohyun's grunt of confusion, pulling back to poke the creases on her forehead. “So you won't be too tired when we haven't even really started, yet.”

 

They laugh together, feeling herself rest atop the wooden surface, shuddering when Joohyun remains close, tucked safely between her legs.

 

She snickers at the huffs Joohyun makes, cooing and attempting to ease her exhaustion away with chaste kisses against her skin.

 

“I told you I'd show you what would happen when we finally have sex,” Wendy sprinkles her adoration across pink cheeks, elegant brows, tender eyelids; cradles Joohyun's face with fingers trembling to hold her. “I told you I could make you breathless.”

 

“…Yeah,” the corner of Joohyun’s lips quirk upwards, “And you’re still _not_ light to carry.”

 

Wendy pinches her side at the jab, tightening her legs around her so Joohyun can’t escape, grinning at every yelp Joohyun squeaks out.

 

“On the bright side, at least we're halfway there.” Wendy brushes Joohyun's hair back, make it easier to see the delightful hue of pink on her cheeks. “Ready to make a break for it?”

 

“Yeah,” Joohyun's tapping her knee, stepping back, looping their fingers together. “But let's walk the rest of the way. My legs can't handle your weight.”

 

Wendy bumps Joohyun's shoulder before stepping off the table, tightening her fingers between Joohyun's and dragging her towards the bedroom.

 

The door creaks open under her hand, spinning on her heel so her back is towards the bed, tugging Joohyun's collar and stealing a glance at a black bra she can’t wait to take off, later. Her patience is running thin at the blistering touch of Joohyun's fingers roaming over her waist.

 

She lunges for her mouth, shuddering at the trail of ember Joohyun leaves on her skin beneath each fingertip.

 

Vanilla fills her lungs up, her heart drumming louder. It's not air she craves for, but it's what she needs, pulling back to breathe; _one, two, three_ \- before Joohyun's sealing her up again.

 

A moan trickles past her throat, latching onto Joohyun’s open shirt when the back of her knees bump into the edge of the bed, stumbling onto soft sheets and cotton pillows.

 

Joohyun’s sinking into the mattress with her, her knee sliding between Wendy’s legs. She mewls beneath each kiss Joohyun scars along her side, her jaw, her neck - as if she’s attempting to take every part of her.

 

“You’re not his,”

 

Wendy chuckles against her lips.

 

Her breath hitches when Joohyun nibbles her shoulder, remembers when The Biter had bitten her there, before.

 

“...Yeah,” Wendy curls a hand behind Joohyun’s neck, shivering when Joohyun’s knee rubs against her center. “...Y-Yeah, I’m not.”

 

Wendy whimpers once Joohyun marks her with teeth again, claiming Wendy's collarbone, her tongue coming to paint her skin, sucking, before fingers tug at her jeans.

 

“Tell me if anything hurts,” Joohyun's readjusting her arm against the mattress, steadying herself. “And I'll stop.”

 

Wendy wonders if she'll find even a tiny fraction of satisfaction with the other clients after this.

 

She drags her fingers along Joohyun's cheeks, pulling her in to write her response across her lips.

 

“Okay,” Wendy smiles at Joohyun’s shaky breath, “Make sure you tell me, too.”

 

Joohyun nuzzles her neck. “Okay,”

 

Wendy's chest surges with something she doesn't know how to put into words. It's pressing up her throat, spilling into her lungs, spreading over her stomach; a tremor of emotions that burn her bones and spin the gears in her limbs.

 

Joohyun tugs at her jeans again, helping her slither out of them, throwing them off somewhere Wendy doesn’t care to know, letting Joohyun back in so she can lean down closer, paint soft lips across her chest.

 

Maybe she shouldn't have told Joohyun to open the button-up for her, leaving her bare enough to be vulnerable under scorching kisses.

 

Wendy quivers when Joohyun's fingers crawl under her back, gripping her bra's clasp.

 

She arches up towards her, shivering when a string slides off her shoulder, bringing her shirt down with it. She’s used to being naked, but Joohyun’s silence makes Wendy grow meek, raising her hands to hide her chest; Joohyun hasn’t said a thing.

 

“...Do you really have to stare, Joohyun?”

 

Joohyun's never been much for talking, Wendy learns, mewling when Joohyun leans down to kiss her hands away, writing her answer with lips across her chest.

 

The touch of Joohyun's tongue painting wet lines over her breast, teeth combing delicate slopes along her skin - Wendy arches towards the heat so Joohyun's mouth could take her all in.

 

Whimpers break out when Joohyun's tongue flicks at her sensitive peak.

 

She clutches Joohyun's hair, pulling her in closer, panting and shuddering under her lips. It only gets worse when a hand trails ecstasy down her stomach, crawling to the slope of her thigh.

 

Joohyun's brushing fingers against where she’s warmest, her underwear a growing annoyance the longer it stays in the way. She squirms to meet more friction, whining when Joohyun's giggles are her only response.

 

“Hurry up and touch me already,”

 

There’s a breath in her ear, scraping syllables against her skin.

 

“...Not until you call me 'Unnie',”

 

_Oh god._

 

Wendy's eyes snap open, jaw going slack at the smirk spreading along Joohyun's mouth. It's insane just how much Joohyun's words make her chest pound loud.

 

“...You're kidding, right?”

 

Wendy tries to salvage whatever composure she has left. It doesn't work, not when Joohyun's smiling down at her, her hand slowing to a stop, hunger seizing Wendy’s head at the lack of pressure.

 

“You don't seem to have a problem calling me that when you're teasing me,” Joohyun taps the little space where she needs her most, the flicker of sensation making Wendy twitch. “So why not in bed, too? It's not like you call me ‘Unnie’ that much, anyway.”

 

Joohyun's horrifyingly right. But Wendy can’t even think of an answer when her throat chokes out gasps, Joohyun teasingly prodding her sensitive bundle of nerves.

 

Wendy's rasping for breath when Joohyun drops open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

 

“Besides...” Joohyun's tongue sweeps across her skin, her breaths melting heat into her bones. “...Unnie will take good care of you, if you do.”

 

Oh _god._

 

Was this what Joy was talking about, before? What Joohyun is into?

 

“…And if I don't?”

 

Wendy's eyes widen at Joohyun's hand slipping off her, feeling her pull away; panic surges up her spine, darting for Joohyun’s wrist.

 

Joohyun laughs, massaging the back of her hand with her thumb.

 

“I’m kidding, Seungwan.” She’s leaning back down, pressing feather-light kisses against her jaw – it soothes Wendy’s fear instantly. “I just thought it’d be fun. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll still be here.”

 

Wendy can't find any bone in her body to bother resisting, not when Joohyun's sketching temptation with her lips, making Wendy quake with every touch - as if electricity coiled through her limbs, rendering her immobile.

 

Why she thought resisting Joohyun would be a good idea is beyond her at this point. There's no reason to shove away the desire fluttering in her stomach, feeling it only light up at the soft caresses Joohyun traces against her skin.

 

Wendy curls fingers in Joohyun's hair, nails scraping her scalp, hearing Joohyun hiss. Longing hands yank her in, urgent to taste insatiable lips.

 

She doesn’t mind attaching honorifics to Joohyun’s name; especially if it means saving it for special moments like these.

 

“Then you better take good care of me, unnie.”

 

Joohyun’s smile tastes even sweeter.

 

Fingers curl over the waistband of her underwear, sliding it off, hurling it towards the door. She feels Joohyun stroke down tender, moist, flesh; as if mapping out the lines of her throbbing lips, slow and curious and gentle. Wendy wonders if Joohyun's already drowning in her arousal.

 

She nods to Joohyun’s mute question, hiding against her shoulder, muffling her moan at the cool touch of Joohyun's fingers wiggling inside her, curling into Joohyun at the contrast in temperature.

 

Wendy lets out a shuddering breath. “...I thought you’d be warmer,”

 

She should be used to it by now, especially when some of the men prefer fingering her over typical intercourse. It’s even expected with female clients, too. But it still gets to her every time.

 

Joohyun's kissing words against her collarbone.

 

“I will be, now. Won’t I?”

 

Oh god.

 

“S-Shut up.”

 

Joohyun’s giggles still sounds adorable, but she can't think anymore because Joohyun's starting to make rhythm against her and Wendy's hips can't help but move along, too.

 

Wendy throws her head back, biting her lip to muffle a cry when Joohyun's mouth begins to chart lines across her breasts again, how it circles a sensitive tip, smearing bliss into her skin.

 

Her breath hitches when she feels Joohyun’s lips trap her in, her tongue swishing around, sucking. Wendy arches closer to euphoric heat, hears nothing but their panting breaths and the slick squelches of her arousal.

 

Her head spins to keep track of both Joohyun's working mouth and tender fingers, thrill shooting up her spine with every pulsing thrust, moaning whenever Joohyun’s thumb swirls circles or paints zig-zags against sensitive nerves.

 

Wendy’s clawing nails into Joohyun’s back, scratching lust down a shirt that still hasn’t come off. She can’t be the only one naked in this - not when she’s been wanting to see the rest of Joohyun’s skin for as long as she could remember.

 

She tugs, stuttering for breath. “...I want to see you,”

 

Joohyun hums against her throat, feeling her nod, before she’s drawing her hand back - fingers slipping against her walls, pressure fading from where she needs her most. Wendy halts her wrist, swallowing a whine and hopes Joohyun understands her silent request. She takes it back – she’s still throbbing with heat and she just _needs her, needs her, needs her._

 

But Joohyun’s still leaving.

 

“W-Wait, where are you—”

 

The words fall short, feeling warmth breathe against her thighs, lips kissing her open. Wendy grips the bed sheets, taking lungfuls of air as Joohyun tattoos syllables against pulsing folds.

 

“Doing what I should’ve done, the first time.” Lips encircle her clit, flicking her tongue, making Wendy jolt under wet warmth. “Drying you off.”

 

She gasps under a mouth that knows how to make her squirm, fingers filling her back in. Wendy shuts her eyes; she doesn’t want it to end.

 

All she can feel is Joohyun.

 

Joohyun,

 

Joohyun,

 

_Joohyun._

 

She comes too soon, bright white blurring her vision, body writhing and fingers shaking. Joohyun’s drinking her in, lapping her up, pressing soft kisses before rising to meet her lips - tasting herself mixed in with vanilla she still can’t get enough of.

 

Her hands settle on Joohyun’s shoulders, thumbs stroking lines across smooth skin.

 

“I – that was…” Wendy catches her breath, her heart still pounding for more. “I didn’t know you could do that, Joohyun.” She pauses, feels warmth take up her cheeks. “...I-I mean, _unnie…_ ”

 

Joohyun hums against the corner of her lips. “I didn’t know, either. But studying helps.”

 

Wendy laughs. They stay like that, holding each other; listening to Joohyun fill up her lungs, warmth and sweat sticking to her skin. She wants to please Joohyun, too.

 

When energy seeps back into her limbs, Wendy pushes her over, kissing Joohyun into the bed and straddles her hips, showers her with affection that’s built up to the brim. She giggles at Joohyun’s blinking eyes, confusion returning like it was still her shade of color.

 

Wendy wants to throw her a show – and preferably rock her, again.

 

She leans down for Joohyun’s mouth. “My turn.”

 

Her hands don’t struggle sliding Joohyun’s jeans off, eager fingers dumping it elsewhere, settling herself back on top of her, chuckling at Joohyun’s flustered face and gaping lips. Experience makes things move a little quicker, but she’ll take her time savoring Joohyun - _every last inch of her._

 

“S-Seungwan—” Joohyun’s words stop short, tapering into a moan as soon as Wendy starts moving her hips, dancing fingers along her stomach.

 

Wendy doesn’t want Joohyun to close her eyes, not when there’s too much to miss.

 

“Look at me,” she says, feeling heat pool between her legs again when Joohyun complies, brown eyes peeking open. “Just look at me.”

 

Wendy traces fingers up her own stomach, drawing invisible lines over her skin, never once forgetting to keep up her rhythm, listening to Joohyun groan. Her eyes would fall shut before opening, again - pleasantly obedient.

 

Touching herself has always been something natural - and a useful weapon to call in temptation. The visual is just as important; she wants to milk out every bit of Joohyun’s senses, drown her in all things Seungwan.

 

Wendy crawls fingers up Joohyun’s arm, urges her to sit up, let go of the shirt that still covers her. Her hand slithers under Joohyun’s elbow for the bra clasp, clicking it off and chucking it, before shoving her back down, roaming her lips over skin she hasn’t yet touched.

 

She explores every curve, every slope, every line, that makes up Joohyun; the peaks of her chest, the arches of her collarbones, the softness of her stomach, the sharpness of her jaw. She records each moan, each whimper, each mewl, so she could have it on repeat when it’s over. Dream of a reality she already has, keeping it in memories that will never be close enough.

 

Wendy rides her like it’s the first time, the second, the third – how Joohyun rises up to match her tempo, the springs of her bed squeaking to their rhythm, their breaths coming out shorter and faster. Wendy wants Joohyun drenched in arousal so she could taste every drop.

 

_(“All I know is, if she ever has sex with you, it would be because she loves you.”)_

 

She doesn’t know if that’s true. She hopes Joy was right, of course. But even if she wasn’t, Wendy knows that at least one of them does.

 

Wendy kisses her harder, swallowing her moan, and hopes Joohyun knows it, too.

 

-

Fanmade wenrene video inspired by TPFT - by  **bubbleflexe.**

**[_Buttons - by bubbleflex_ e](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lo4m6isXfz0) **

 

Fanart made by **@cherryseungwan**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy hoely Sunday! On a more serious note, I want to thank @bubbleflexe for the wonderful edit “Buttons” that was inspired by this story. Check it out in the link provided above! And subscribe for quality content. You won’t be disappointed.
> 
> I want to also thank @cherryseungwan for the beautiful artworks she's made for the scenes I have only ever been able to imagine in my head and portray with what words I could scramble to find. I've told you this before but I'll say it again because I mean it every time; you made it real. Tangible. And I will never be able to thank you enough for it. Go follow her for amazing content. As always, you won't be disappointed.
> 
> @bubbleflexe, I’m honored and grateful to be able to watch it; it’s amazing. Gets me screaming every time. Seriously. Thank you!
> 
> @cherryseungwan, I will never run out of my thank you's for the time you've put in to draw the images I never thought I'd be able to see anywhere else but in my head. I'm honored and grateful you shared your art with us. Thank you!
> 
> Hope you all have enjoyed this update. Until next time.


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